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HISTORY 

OF THE 

ENGLISH REVOLUTION 


OF 1688. 






HISTORY 


OF THE 

ENGLISH REVOLUTION 

OF l688 


/ 

By Charles Duke Yonge 


REGIUS PROFESSOR OF MODERN HISTORY, QUEEN’S COLLEGE, BELFAST 
AND AUTHOR OF “ THE HISTORY OF THE BRITISH NAVY ; w “ THE HISTORY OF FRANCE 

UNDER THE BOURBONS,” ETC. 



Henry S. King & Co., 

65 CORNHILL and 12 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON, E.C. 

1874 



THE LIBRARY 
09 CONGRESS 

WASHINGTON 


^3A«r 


u rr 




(^// rights reserved.) 









J2J y 


v 


PREFACE. 

—♦— 

The following small volume owes its origin to a want which 
the Author has himself felt while engaged in preparing lectures 
on English History. The most important transaction in our 
annals is, unquestionably, the Revolution which established on 
its present foundation the Constitution under which English¬ 
men have ever since lived. Of that great event Macaulay’s 
brilliant narrative is too long for ordinary students; the account 
given in even the best School History is unavoidably far too 
short, while the work of Hallam touches only the constitutional 
points, the purely historical events not coming within His plan. 

It seemed, therefore, that a narrative which shomu at once 
be full enough to give an adequate knowledge of the Revolution 
in its Historical and Constitutional aspects, and yet not so 
minute or prolix as to dishearten or deter the ordinary reader 
from approaching the subject, might be of use to both pupils 
and teachers. And the Author, having compiled this little 
volume on these principles for his own use, offers it to the 
public in the hope that those who are engaged like himself 
may find it convenient. 



VI 


Preface. 


The arrangement of the topics treated of, having been 
originally adopted for a course of lectures on the subject, 
differs from that usually found in regular histories. The 
Revolution of 1688 is treated as if it were but a continuance 
and completion of the movements begun in the reign of 
Charles I. And the relation of the events which established 
William and Mary as sovereigns, first in England, next in 
Scotland, and lastly in Ireland, is followed by an enumeration 
of the legislative measures which were required to complete the 
Revolution. This again is followed by a description of the 
circumstances which for some years seemed to threaten a counter¬ 
revolution ; though several of the events of this last-named 
character were, in point of time, prior to some of the enact¬ 
ments described before them. And the circumstances to which 
many looked for a counter-revolution are divided into two 
classes; one kind of danger arising from foreign war; another, 
of a more formidable kind, being that of domestic treachery 
and conspiracies within the kingdom. 

The Revolution is regarded as not having been finally com¬ 
pleted and secured till the peace of Ryswick, and the volume 
ends with a brief contemplation of the consequences and fruits 
of the Revolution, among which the closing events of William’s 
reign necessarily find a place. 

March , 1874. 


TABLE OF CONTENTS. 


— * —- 

CHAPTER I. 

PAGF. 

General result of the Reformation in foreign countries—Character 
of the Reformation in England—Character of the earliest events 
in the reign of Charles I.—Arbitrary government of Charles— 
Violence of the Parliament—The King attempts to arrest the 
five Members—Commencement and general results of the Civil 
War—Violence and artifice of Cromwell—Death of the King— 
Instability of the Revolution thus effected—Character of Crom¬ 
well’s government—Death of Cromwell and restoration of 
Charles II.—Character of the reign of Charles II.—Disgrace of 
Clarendon and power of the Cabal—The Popish Plot—The 
Exclusion Bill—The Test Act—The Rye House Plot—Death of 
Charles II.i 


CHAPTER II. 

Popularity of James II. on his Accession—Easy suppression of Mon¬ 
mouth’s rebellion—James begins to violate the law—James 
becomes a pensioner of Louis XIV.—Composition of the Minis¬ 
try—He seeks to procure the repeal of the Test Act and Habeas 
Corpus Act—He brings up the army to Hounslow Heath—He 
quarrels with the Houses of Parliament—Dismisses Lord Hali¬ 
fax—Revocation of the Edict of Nantes—The reassembling of 
Parliament—The King’s speech—Firmness of both Houses— 
James prorogues the Parliament—The Pope and the High 
Tories remonstrate—Lord Castlemaine is sent as ambassador to 
Rome.18 





Contents. 


vm 


CHAPTER III. 

PAGE 

Violence of Lord Tyrconnel in Ireland—State of Ireland—The mas¬ 
sacre of 1641—Tyrconnel succeeds Lord Clarendon as Lord 
Lieutenant—The Protestants are gradually dismissed from em¬ 
ployment—Conduct of the Government in Scotland—General 
hatred of Popery in the Scotch nation—James quarrels with the 
Privy Council and with the Estates—James dispenses with penal 
statutes in England—The case of Sir Edward Hales—Prefer¬ 
ments in the Church are conferred on Roman Catholics— 
Establishment of a Court of High Commission—The case of 
Dr. Sharpe and Bishop Compton—Roman Catholic convents, 

&c., are established in London—Position and character of the 
Prince of Orange.38 


CHAPTER IV. 

James tries to gain the Prince of Orange’s consent to a general tolera¬ 
tion—He issues a Declaration of Indulgence—The Nonconform¬ 
ists declare against the dispensing power—The correspondence 
between Stewart and Fagel—James dissolves the Parliament— 
James executes some soldiers for desertion—He attacks the 
University of Cambridge—Farmer is nominated President of 
Magdalen College, Oxford—James visits Oxford—The fellows 
of Magdalen are expelled—James proposes to bequeath Ireland 
to Louis—Expectation of an heir to the Throne—A Board of 
regulators is appointed—James issues a second Declaration of 
Indulgence—Six Bishops present a petition to the King . . 55 

CHAPTER V. 

t 

The Bishops are committed to the Tower—Birth of the Prince of 
Wales—General disbelief in his genuineness—Trial of the 
Bishops—Argument of Somers—The Bishops are acquitted— 

An invitation is sent to the Prince of Orange—Cautious conduct 
of William—The great difficulties of an invasion—Condition 
and constitution of the Dutch Republic—The state of affairs in 
other continental countries—James becomes more violent—Pre¬ 
pares to proceed against the Clergy—Impolicy of Louis in offend¬ 
ing the Pope and the Emperor—William cultivates the English 
nobles, and conciliates the Roman Catholic Princes—The 
States of Holland approve of the invasion of England—James 
receives intelligence of William’s design—He tries conciliatory 
measures.. 




Contents. 


IX 


CHAPTER VI. 

PAGE 

William sets sail for England—Circulates a manifesto giving his 
reasons for the expedition—William lands in Devonshire— 
Embarrassment and agitation of the King—Men of influence 
gradually join the Prince—Lord Cornbury joins William— 
Risings in favour of the Prince take place in many parts of the 
Kingdom—James leaves London for Salisbury, and William 
advances from Exeter—Lord Churchill deserts him—Flight of 
the Princess Anne—James returns to London—Debate in the 
Council—Lord Dartmouth refuses to convey the Prince of 
Wales to France—Writs are issued for a new Parliament . 97 


CHAPTER VII. 

Commissioners from the King reach William’s camp—Divisions 
among William’s adherents—William declares his willingness to 
trust the decision of all disputes to a free Parliament—Lauzun 
conducts the Queen and Prince of Wales to France—James 
flies from London—He is stopped on the coast—Resolution 
adopted by the Council of Peers—Lord Feversham disbands 
the army—Great riots in London—The Prince advances to 
Windsor—James returns to London—The Peers request James 
to withdraw from London—James flies to France . . . 124 


CHAPTER VIII. 

William reaches London—Invites the Peers and chief Commoners 
to a conference—The Peers request the Prince to take the 
government on himself for the present, and to summon a con¬ 
vention—Differences of opinion in the nation—The convention 
meets January 22, 1689—An Association for self-defence is formed 
in Ulster by the Protestants—Discussion in the House of Com¬ 
mons—A resolution is agreed to by the House of Commons— 
Keen debate on every clause of the resolution in the House of 
Peers—A conference between the two Houses is held—James 
sends a letter to the convention—Feelings of the Prince and 
Princess of Orange—The Prince and Princess are invited to 
accept the crown—The Declaration of Right is framed by the 
Commons—The Princess reaches England—The two Houses 
present the crown to the Prince and Princess, February 13, 
1689. 


140 



X 


Contents. 


CHAPTER IX. 

PAGE 

State of feeling in Scotland during the latter part of the Year 1688—A 
meeting of the leading Scotchmen takes place in London, January 
7, 1689—They request him to convoke the Estates of Scotland 
—Great riots in Scotland—William’s language on the subject of 
religion—The Estates are opened by a letter from William—He 
recommends an Union with England—Time-serving policy of the 
chief Scotch nobles—The Estates declare William and Mary 
King and Queen of Scotland—They prefer a Claim of Right 
which abolishes Episcopacy—Conduct of those who continue to 
adhere to James—Character and views of Lord Dundee—He 
takes arms in the cause of James—The Battle of Killiecrankie, 
and death of Dundee—Great importance of his death . . 169 


CHAPTER X. 

James lands in Ireland in March, 1689—The disturbed state of Ire¬ 
land—Illegal and violent Government of Lord Tyrconnel — The 
Protestants refuse Lord Antrim admission into Derry—Tyrcon¬ 
nel disarms the Protestants, and enlists the Roman Catholics— 
James lays siege to Derry—Sufferings and fortitude of the in¬ 
habitants—The siege is raised—The Battle of Newton Butler 
—Violent proceedings of the Irish Parliament—The general act 
of attainder—Adulteration of the coinage—Schomberg’s cam¬ 
paign in the autumn of 1689—In 1690 William takes the com¬ 
mand—The Battle of the Boyne. 


CHAPTER XI. 

James returns to France—William arrives in Dublin—He is repulsed 
from Limerick by Sarsfield—He returns to England—The Earl 
of Marlborough reduces Cork and Kinsale—The French regi¬ 
ments are withdrawn—The Rapparees—General St. Ruth takes 
the command—William goes with Marlborough to Flanders— 
General Ginkell commands in Ireland—Gink ell takes Athlone — 
The Battle of Aghrim—Galway surrenders—Sarsfield throw's 
himself into Limerick—The two treaties of Limerick—Many of 
Sarsfield's soldiers emigrate with him to France .... 


221 


Contents. 


xi 


CHAPTER XII. 

PAGE 

Much remains to be done in England after the settlement of the Go¬ 
vernment—Real character of the Revolution—Many legislative 
measures are still necessary—Composition of the ministry—The 
Toleration Bill—The Comprehension Bill—The case of the Non¬ 
jurors—William issues an Act of Grace—The Bill of Rights— 
Question of the succession after the death of the Princess Anne 
—Birth of the Duke of Gloucester—The subsequent Act of Set¬ 
tlement-Gradual change in the mode of administration and 
character of a Ministry—Disqualification of placemen for seats 
in the House of Commons—The Triennial Bill, altered at a later 
period to a Septennial Bill—Purification of the coinage—Expira¬ 
tion of restrictions on the Press—Establishment of Newspapers. 240 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Dangers of the Revolution from foreign wars—Success of the French 
in Piedmont and Spain—The war in Flanders—Battles of Wal- 
court and Fleurus—In 1691 William crosses over to take the 
command—Luxemburg takes Mons—In 1692 Luxemburg takes 
Namur—The battle of Steinkirk—Campaign of 1693—Cowardice 
of Louis XIV.—The battle of Neerwinden—Subsequent cam¬ 
paigns—Recapture of Namur—The battle of La * Hogue— 
Declaration issued by James.. 271 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Intrigues and plots against William—Hopes of James and his 
courtiers—Doubtful fidelity of the English nobles—Personal un¬ 
popularity of William—State of the Highlands—-The Massacre 
of Glencoe—Lord Preston’s conspiracy—Treachery of Fuller 
and Crone—Plot of the Earl of Marlborough—Grandval’s con¬ 
spiracy—Death of Queen Mary—Compounders and Non-com¬ 
pounders—Lord Middleton is invited to St. Germains—James 
publishes anew Declaration—Charnock’s conspiracy—Detection 
of the plot—A Bond of Association is signed—Recent alterations 
in the law of trials for High Treason—Case of Sir John Fen¬ 
wick—His Execution by Act of Attainder—Objections to which 
Acts of Attainder are liable.... .... 292 


Xll 


Contents. 


chapter xv. 

General weariness of the war—Louis proposes Peace—The treaty of 
Ryswick—Subsequent occurrences of William’s reign—William 
desires to keep on foot a large army, and to retain his Dutch 
regiments—The Houses annul the grants of the Irish forfeited 
lands—The Commons resort to a tack—The Partition Treaties— 
Charles bequeaths his dominions to the Duke d’Anjou—Impeach¬ 
ment and acquittal of Lord Somers—The succession to the 
crown is settled on the Electress Sophia—Death of James II.— 
Louis proclaims the Pretender King of England—Death of 
William—General view of the Revolution—Character of the 
King and of the English statesmen of his reign—William — 
Halifax—Nottingham and Caermarthen—Somers and Montague 
—The great legislative measures of William's reign—The 
Legislative Union with Scotland—Failure of the Rebellions of 
1715 and 1745 to overthrow the principles of the Revolution— 
Necessity of the Revolution. 


PAGE 


333 


THE 


ENGLISH REVOLUTION 


OF 1688. 


♦- 


CHAPTER I. 

General Result of the Reformation in Foreign Countries—Character of the 
Reformation in England—Character of the Earliest Events in the 
Reign of Charles I.—Arbitrary Government of Charles—Violence of 
the Parliament—The King attempts to Arrest the Five Members— 
Commencement and General Results of the Civil War—Violence and 
Artifice of Cromwell—Death of the King—Instability of the Revolu¬ 
tion thus effected—Character of Cromwell’s Government—Death of 
Cromwell and Restoration of Charles II.—Character of the Reign of 
Charles II.—Disgrace of Clarendon and Power of the Cabal—The 
Popish Plot—The Exclusion Bill—The Test Act—The Rye House 
Plot—Death of Charles II. 

Before the end of the sixteenth century the Reformation 
had obtained a more general hold over, and a firmer footing 
in England and Scotland than among any of the continental 
nations, and its establishment in England had been almost 
wholly free from the convulsions by which it had been 
attended in other countries. In France it had led to a 
series of civil wars disfigured by unprecedented atrocities, 
culminating in the assassination of the King himself. In 
Germany it had already caused one fierce and sanguinary 


B 



2 


The English Revolution. 


war, and was about to kindle another, whose very name, 
“ The Thirty Years’ War,” indicates a long continuance 
of misery such as has been endured by few nations. It 
had torn asunder, with an everlasting separation, the 
provinces of the Netherlands, and had reft from Spain the 
most valuable portion of her European dominions. But 
in England, as the principles and dispositions of the chief 
leaders of the movement had been of a more sober-minded 
and moderate character than had prevailed elsewhere, it 
had been carried out more peaceably. The demonstra¬ 
tions of hostility which it had provoked had been limited 
to one or two outbreaks too insignificant to be dignified by 
the name of insurrection, and fewer victims had perished 
in the entire period of the Marian persecution than Alva 
had often put to death in a single week. 

Perhaps no more honourable testimony can be borne to 
the general humanity of the English character than is 
furnished by the abhorrence with which Mary’s name has 
ever since been regarded in these kingdoms on account 
of a bloodshed which fell so infinitely short of what was 
practised in the same age in other lands, and of what was 
incessantly urged upon the Queen by her advisers. 

But though the English Reformation was thus compara¬ 
tively unmarked by violence, it was indirectly paving the 
way for fierce political commotions. For, as among the 
continental nations there had been two schools of re¬ 
formers, the disciples of Luther and those of Calvin, so 
among ourselves there was a large party which was discon¬ 
tented with the moderation of those who had borne the 
chief sway in the direction of the recent changes; which, 
desiring a more explicit protest of enmity to the Papal 
domination, was impatient at the toleration of many ancient 


* 





Feelings of the Early Reformers. 


3 


customs and practices, not because they were in themselves 
objectionable, but because they prevailed at Rome; and 
which longed to sweep away every observance which 
seemed to bear the least connection with the discarded 
superstitions. 

In Scotland this feeling had been universal, and the 
Presbyterian form, as it was called, which was established 
there, found no small number of adherents in England; 
while it so happened that the zeal to promote the spread 
of their theological opinions coincided, in many men 
of the greatest influence in that party, with a resolution 
to reassert and maintain those civil liberties which, under 
the arbitrary rule of the Tudor princes, had been greatly 
violated, and had seemed, at one time, in no slight danger 
of entire extinction. 

Matters were in this state when Charles I. came to 
the throne, and many of the earlier transactions of his 
reign were most perversely and unhappily calculated to 
intensify at once the feelings of religious irritation and of 
political uneasiness. Though he himself cherished a sin¬ 
cere and enlightened attachment to the reformed Church of 
England, his Queen was a bigoted Papist; and he, in his 
uxorious fondness, permitted her for some time to indulge 
in practices which almost seemed as if they had been 
adopted with the express design of showing her contempt 
for Protestantism. He even gave rise to a suspicion that he 
himself shared her opinions by selling to Roman Catholics 
dispensations from the penal laws which had been enacted 
against all professors of their religion in the kingdom, and 
which the Houses of Parliament had formally besought him 
to enforce; and still more by openly countenancing the 
pompous ceremonies which Laud, Bishop of London, and 

B 2 


4 


The English Revolution. 


afterwards Primate, took constant occasion to introduce, 
and which, from their likeness to Popish observances, 
offended many even of those who were far from belong¬ 
ing to the Puritan party; and, while thus raising a jealousy 
of his fidelity to the national religion, he excited still 
deeper and better-founded apprehensions of his inclination 
to trample on the civil liberties of his subjects. 

He raised taxes by his own authority; he imprisoned, 
prosecuted, and procured the conviction of members of 
Parliament for opposing this violation of the Constitution 
in the House of Commons, thus striking a blow at the 
independence of Parliament, with which the freedom of the 
whole nation was inseparably linked; and, finally, he dis¬ 
pensed with the Parliament altogether, and for eleven years 
governed the kingdom by his sole authority, as if he 
were an absolute sovereign, untrammelled by a single con¬ 
stitutional restraint. 

Englishmen were not of a temper to acquiesce long in 
such a suppression of the freedom which their ancestors 
had won by their exertions above 400 years before; and, 
when at last the misguided monarch was compelled once 
more to summon a Parliament, its leaders showed a resolu¬ 
tion to extinguish for ever the abuses which threatened to 
enslave them. The reluctance which Charles had shown 
to reassemble them, his manifest inability to dispense with 
their aid any longer, were sufficient proofs that the power 
was in their own hands if they asserted it with courage and 
steadiness. But, unhappily, they were not contented with 
mere security. The King’s encroachments on their rights 
had begotten a spirit of retaliation, and they in their turn 
began to encroach on his prerogatives in a manner and 
degree as fatal to the maintenance of the proper constitu- 


The Independents . 5 

tional balance of power in the Government as the most 
despotic of his measures had been. 

They were not satisfied with extorting his assent to Bills 
which should bind him to a constant reassembling of the 
Parliament at fixed periods, to a renunciation of the power 
of arbitrary imprisonment, and of the claim to levy taxes 
by his own authority; they impeached his chief adviser, 
the Earl of Strafford, and wrung from him a consent to that 
statesman’s execution, though the very mode of proceeding 
which they adopted, a Bill of Attainder, proved their inability 
to convict him of any legal offence. They even reduced 
Charles to renounce his right to dissolve them without their 
own consent; an act which, at one stroke, transferred the 
whole power of the State from him to themselves; and to 
consent to the exclusion of the Bishops from the House of 
Lords, a measure to which, intended, as it manifestly was, 
as a blow to the Church, he probably felt a still deeper 
repugnance. 

Their progress was not even arrested by what might have 
been expected to prove fatal to it, the disunion in their 
own ranks, which the success that they had hitherto met 
with brought to light; for one section of the Opposition, to 
use a modern term, was composed of men who belonged 
neither to the Established Church nor to the Presbyterian 
body, but who called themselves Independents, as being 
opposed to any kind of ecclesiastical government, and who 
extended their principle, if it could be called one, to an 
equal hostility to civil government. 

Cromwell was a member of this sect, which gradually 
became as hostile to the Presbyterians as to the Churchmen ; 
for the Presbyterians, under the guidance of Hampden and 
Pym, limited their views to the imposition of sufficient 


6 


The English Revolution. 


restrictions on the sovereign power, but the Independents 
desired to sweep it away altogether, and some of them 
probably already meditated the destruction of the King 
himself. 1 

But this difference of aim, vital as it was, did not at first 
prevent the two parties from acting together, Charles him¬ 
self, by a strange act of illegal violence, even contributing 
to unite them more closely. In the autumn of 1641 the 
leaders of the Opposition induced the House of Commons 
to publish an elaborate document on the state of the nation, 
to which they gave the name of a Remonstrance, but which 
was so manifestly a seditious attempt to rekindle and keep 
alive the discontent which the King’s recent concessions 
had in a great measure allayed, that it has found but few 
defenders among subsequent students of history. Charles 
was deeply offended, as was natural; 2 and a few weeks 
afterwards not only impeached the chief authors of the 
memorial of high treason, but went down in person to the 
House of Commons to arrest those whom he had accused, 
the majority of whom, if not all, belonged to the Presby¬ 
terian party. He failed, since those whom he sought had 
been forewarned, and had withdrawn from the House before 
his arrival; but it could hardly be wondered at that an act 

1 Walker, in his “History of Independency,” part II., p.208, admits 
that they intended from the first to pull down monarchy and set up anarchy, 
notwithstanding several declarations to the contrary, “which were from 
time to time extorted from them by the Presbyterians;” but Hallam ap¬ 
pears to think that this was true only of a section of the party, saying 
(II. 270, note, Ed. 1832) that “ Neal seems to have proved the Indepen¬ 
dents, as a body, were not systematically adverse to monarchy.” 

2 Hallam even thinks that to offend him was a part of their design. 
His words are, “The promoters of it might also hope from Charles's proud 
and hasty temper, that he would reply in such a tone as would more 
exasperate the Commons.” 


Commencement of Civil War. 


7 


which struck thus not only at the independence of the 
Parliament, but at their own individual safety, should have 
exasperated them : and accordingly we find that Hampden, 
the man of the highest personal character and influence, 
and Pym, the most eloquent orator among the Presbyterians, 
both of whom were among the objects of the King’s attempt, 
were by it embittered to a greater degree of personal hos¬ 
tility to him than they had previously shown. They joined 
the Independents in carrying a vote to wrest from him the 
supreme authority over the militia, one of the most essential 
and inalienable parts of the Royal Prerogative; and, on his 
refusal to consent to such an encroachment on his unques¬ 
tionable rights, they led the Parliament by rapid steps to 
armed resistance and to a formal raising of the standard 
of civil war. 

We need not here recapitulate the melancholy events of 
the next seven years. The course of the war, which at first 
was not unfavourable to Charles, gradually turned against 
him, and that in the most unfortunate manner; the disasters 
of the Parliamentary army being mostly incurred under the 
command of Presbyterian officers, while the most important 
advantages which were gained were attributed to Cromwell 
and the Independents. The division between the two 
parties became day by day more clearly pronounced, the 
Independents constantly bearing down their adversaries, 
sometimes by chicanery, sometimes by open violence; 
and the Presbyterians displaying an obstinate incapacity 
to discern either the signs of the times or the true 
character of the struggle and of their own position. 
Cromwell outwitted them by the Self-denying Ordinance: 
presently he drove their leaders from the House by im¬ 
peachment; and at last he actually with his soldiers 


8 The English Revolution. 

cleared the House of all who were opposed to his designs, 
many of whom he threw into prison, reducing that once 
august body to a miserable remnant of scarcely more than 
fifty members. 1 

Meanwhile he had possessed himself of the King’s person, 
and he now brought him to London to murder him with a 
burlesque of all the forms of law and justice. The House 
of Peers unanimously refused to concur in his measures, so 
he proceeded on the vote of the Commons alone; those 
few members whom he allowed to continue to sit being 
men on whose fanaticism and unscrupulousness he could 
safely rely. They first passed a vote that the whole sove-~ 
reign power of the State belonged to themselves alone; and 
then appointed a High Court of Justice to try the King on 
charges of a general course of tyranny and enmity to the 
Commonwealth, and especially of having levied war against 
the Parliament. And though scarcely more than half the 
judges whom they had nominated could be induced to sit, 
the remainder pronounced him guilty. Cromwell and his 
troops secured the execution of their sentence, and to the 
astonishment and indignation of all foreign nations, and 
to the grief and horror of the vast majority of his own 
subjects, the unhappy Sovereign was beheaded in front of 
his own palace. 

The next week the House of Commons formally abolished 
monarchy, and a revolution, the most complete that could 
possibly have been conceived, was accomplished, the very 
form and character of the Government being changed. 
But it had no element of permanence in it. 

i On the 6th and 7th of December, he sent Colonel Pride, with his 
troopers, to " purge ” the House, and after those days the greatest number 
that ever met, till after the King’s murder, was fifty-three. 


Tyranny of Cromwell. 


9 


Those who had hitherto been so zealous in aiding Crom¬ 
well, soon found that they had misunderstood his designs 
and character; and that they had only given themselves a 
new master, abler no doubt, but far more arbitrary in his dis¬ 
position, more severe in his temper, and more unscrupulous 
in his dealings than his worst enemies had ever accused 
Charles of showing himself. He did not venture, indeed, to 
assume the title of king : he longed to do so, but feared the 
discontent of the army, with whose support he could not 
afford to dispense; for, in fact, during the whole remainder 
of his life he kept the nation under martial law. He 
divided the kingdom into districts, with one of his general 
officers as his lieutenant in each, and all civil law he 
set wholly at defiance, trampling on those very articles 
of Magna Charta the disregard of which had raised the 
first opposition to the late King. He imposed taxes by 
his single authority; he imprisoned, executed with a mere 
mockery of trial, and even sold for slaves those who for 
one cause or another fell under his displeasure. He 
remodelled the House of Commons; dictated the acts of 
the different Parliaments which he convoked while he 
allowed them to sit; and dissolved them as capriciously 
and wantonly as ever Charles had dissolved his, on one 
occasion clearing the House with his troops at the point of 
the bayonet. 

For two years he ruled without even the pretence of a 
Parliament. In the emphatic but most accurate words of 
Hallam, “ The civil wars had ended in a despotism com- 
“ pared to which all the illegal practices of former kings, all 
“ that had cost Charles his life and his crown, appeared as 
“ dust in the balance;” and “ a sense of present evils not only 
“ excited a burning desire to live again under the ancient 


io The English Revolution . 

“ monarchy, but obliterated, especially in the new genera- 
“ tion, that had no distinct remembrance of them, the appre- 
“ hension of its former abuses.” 

Cromwell died in rather less than ten years after the 
murder of the King : and his death at once undid the whole 
of the Revolution. Had his life been protracted, many, even 
of his own supporters, doubted whether he would have been 
able to maintain his power much longer; and his son, to 
whom he had hoped to secure a peaceful succession to 
his Protectorate, resembled him in no point whatever, 
but was equally destitute of ability and ambition; and it 
was probably with no great reluctance that he found him¬ 
self, in the course of the next summer, compelled to resign 
his post. 

In fact, from the moment that his father died, every one 
perceived that the restoration of the royal family was in¬ 
evitable; and in May, 1660, Charles II. was replaced on 
the throne of his ancestors amid the acclamations of a vast 
majority of the nation. So general was the reaction, that the 
first Parliament which met after the Restoration was rather 
inclined to abandon some of the securities for the rights of 
the subject which had been extorted from Charles I.; and 
though they did indeed pass Bills for the confirmation of 
the Petition of Rights, they repealed the Act for Triennial 
Parliaments, which had been one of the most laudable 
measures of the Long Parliament in its first session, and 
which at the time of its enactment had been regarded by 
its promoters as the surest of all the bulwarks of the Con¬ 
stitution. 

Other laws of recent enactment which they also abrogated 
were no doubt of a mischievous character, such as that for 
the exclusion of the Bishops from the House of Peers. 


Character of Charles II. II 

But the repeal of this provision for the constant re-election 
and reassembling of Parliament did once more virtually lay 
the liberties of the people at the King’s mercy. Great 
virtue and sound judgment would have been needed to 
enable a prince, restored to his throne under such circum¬ 
stances as Charles, to withstand the temptation to misuse 
the power thus imprudently placed in his hands. 

Unhappily, Charles had no such qualities. He was, in¬ 
deed, far from being deficient in ability; but the wandering, 
uncertain life which he had led since his removal to the Con¬ 
tinent in his boyhood, the constant disappointment of his 
hopes and plans for the recovery of his crown, had under¬ 
mined his principles, and had implanted in him a reckless¬ 
ness and indifference to every object but that of the grati¬ 
fication of the moment. And he was not long in finding 
councillors who sought their own ends in encouraging him 
in designs and conduct not more ruinous to his own character 
than fatal to the honour and even the independence of the 
kingdom. 

. His first Minister, indeed, was the Earl of Clarendon, who 
in the first session of the Long Parliament had been a leader 
of the Opposition, till a conviction that Charles had made 
sufficient concessions to secure real freedom, and that many 
of those with whom he had at first connected himself were 
encroaching unduly and dangerously on the royal authority, 
led him to espouse the side of the King, and to take office 
as one of his ministers. As the course of the war grew 
more and more unfavourable, Charles entrusted him with the 
especial care of the Prince of Wales ; he managed his escape 
from the kingdom, acted in some degree as his tutor and 
guardian at Paris; and when the young Prince had become 

titular King by his father’s death, he accompanied him from 

■ 


12 The English Revolution. 

place to place as his principal adviser throughout the remain¬ 
ing period of his exile. 

His administration cannot be pronounced perfect in point 
of liberality or prudence; indeed, it was impossible that so 
long an absence from his native land should have failed to 
deprive him of that insight into the feelings of the nation 
which is indispensable to one who would successfully govern 
it, while the events which had happened during that time, 
and the state of affairs, both civil and ecclesiastical, after 
the Restoration, made his position one of unusual difficulty. 
Still, his government was generally able, and always up¬ 
right and patriotic; and though he could not prevent the 
supplies which should have been appropriated to the 
defence of the kingdom from being diverted to glut the 
rapacity of the Ring’s courtiers and mistresses, nor, in 
consequence, save the country from the disgrace of seeing 
an enemy burn its finest ships in the waters of the Thames 
itself, he kept the King in the paths of the law, and 
during his tenure of power no inroad was attempted on 
the Constitutional rights of the people. 

But when, seven years after the Restoration, the un¬ 
grateful King, weary of his minister’s very virtues, which 
he felt as in some degree a reproach to himself, abandoned 
him to his enemies, the advisers by whom he replaced him 
eagerly co-operated with Charles in discarding all restraints 
of law, prudence, and even decency; and the rest of the 
reign presented a systematic violation not only of every 
principle of Constitutional government, but of all the 
ordinary obligations of private honour. The national 
creditors were defrauded by the shutting of the Ex¬ 
chequer; Charles himself became a pensioner of Louis 
of France; the money which he received being partly 


The Test Act. 


13 


a bribe to induce him to acquiesce in the French 
monarch’s aggressions upon his neighbours, and partly a 
resource to enable him himself to bribe his Parliament; 
or, if it should not prove sufficiently compliant, to dispense 
with convoking it. 

It was no wonder that such practices produced deep and 
general discontent. The formal agreement which the Royal 
cousins had made was, indeed, not known; but the manifest 
servility of the English Government to that of France excited 
suspicions; and presently those suspicions took a direction 
which has at all times been more powerful than any other 
to kindle the fiercest passions in the nation. It began to 
be suspected that Charles’s object was not so much to 
establish his own absolute power as to favour the Roman 
, Catholic religion. His brother and next heir, the Duke 
of York, had publicly avowed himself a Roman Catholic 
some years before ; and it was feared that his influence 
over the King, which was known to be great, might lead 
him to adopt the same belief. Such a suspicion made 
even the most venal members of Parliament unmanageable. 

Charles, in imitation of his father, who had suspended the 
penal laws against the Roman Catholics, had by his own 
authority issued what he called a Declaration of Indulgence, 
suspending the penal laws against Nonconformists of any 
kind, whether Popish or Protestant; the two Houses com¬ 
pelled him to cancel his proclamation; and even passed a 
Test Act, which bound all holders of office to profess an 
adherence to the Church of England. Though one of its 
effects was to deprive the Duke of York himself of the post 
of Lord High Admiral, and Lord Clifford, the most respect¬ 
able of the ministers, of the Lord Treasurer’s staff, Charles 
could not venture to refuse his assent to the Bill. But he 


14 


The English Revolution. 


could not thus allay the suspicions which his former conduct 
had awakened, and which, aided by the general contempt 
into which the Government had fallen, were about to pro¬ 
duce bitter fruit of a character to which the history of no 
country in the world presents a parallel. 

The whole nation went suddenly mad on the subject 
of the dangers to be apprehended from Popery; a gang 
of infamous informers invented a strange story of a plot 
which had been organized by the Pope and the Jesuits to 
bring back the kingdom under the dominion of Rome; 
they supported their statements by the most hardened 
perjuries; and inconsistent and absurd and monstrous as 
was their tale in every particular, nothing which they could 
invent was so preposterous as to shock the credulity of 
their hearers. 

The plot, according to their testimony, embraced plans 
for burning London, and for murdering the King; mem¬ 
bers of Parliament, ministers of state, and nobles were 
accused of being privy to the conspiracy, at which the 
Queen herself was accused of conniving. Numbers of 
innocent men were brought to trial on these wicked and 
ridiculous charges; the judges, never more corrupt than in 
this shameless reign, pressed their conviction; the juries, 
whom mingled credulity and terror seemed to have deprived 
of their senses, thought the mere indictment a sufficient 
evidence of guilt; the King, with a baseness which exceeds 
all his other infamies, did not scruple to sign the death- 
warrants of men whom he knew to be honest and loyal, on 
accusations which in private he denied and ridiculed ; the 
leaders of the country party, as those were called who in 
general opposed his government, for once agreeing with him 
in this iniquity; hounding on the informers, lending their 


The Exclusion Bill. 


15 


voices to intimidate the tribunals, and even seeking to 
deny the King the power of mitigating sentences, which, 
callous as he was, he sometimes recoiled from inflicting in 
all their pitiless severity. 

But on other points the Opposition grew less and less 
accommodating. They impeached his minister, the Earl of 
Danby; and Charles did not conceal from his French ally 
his apprehensions that the kingdom was again on the verge 
of rebellion. To save his minister, whose trial might have 
brought to light the secret conditions of the treaty with 
Louis, he dissolved the Parliament, which, in defiance of all 
propriety, he had maintained in existence for seventeen years. 
But the new Parliament, which he could not avoid summon¬ 
ing, from its very first meeting displayed a temper and pur¬ 
pose which he regarded as more dangerous than the worst 
acts of the last. They had the same dread of Popery as 
their predecessors ; but they showed their fears in a manner 
which, whatever may be thought of its Constitutional charac¬ 
ter, had in it, at all events, more of statesmanlike foresight. 
They brought in a Bill to deprive the Duke of York of his 
right of succession to the throne, on account of his religion. 
Such a measure would of itself have been a revolution, and 
Charles was greatly alarmed. He prorogued the Parliament; 
he ruled without it for more than a year; and, when at 
last he found himself compelled to reassemble it, the Oppo¬ 
sition instantly revived the Bill. 

Charles was attached to his brother, and even more, in 
all probability, to the rights of his family and to the 
principle of hereditary succession. He exerted himself 
' greatly; he condescended personally to canvass members 
of both Houses against the threatened measure. He 
offered to consent to a Bill which should limit the Duke’s 


16 The English Revolution. 

authority after he should have become King (an enactment 
which, when the time came, could hardly have been car¬ 
ried out), and which should fence round the Protestant 
Church with fresh securities. But, though he by these 
means procured the rejection of the obnoxious Bill in one 
session, it was revived in the next, and he had no resource 
but to dissolve that Parliament also. 

He never summoned another; but for the remainder of 
his reign dispensed with them altogether, and sought to 
chastise those who had thwarted him, and to throw an 
additional protection around his brother by encouraging 
prosecutions of the leaders of the Opposition, or Whig 
party, as it had recently been called. Some were alarmed 
and fled; others stood their ground and sought to defend 
themselves by conspiracies and plans for insurrection, one 
of which at least involved a plot for the assassination of 
the Duke and the King himself. They were betrayed, as 
such treasons almost always are betrayed. Stern vengeance 
was executed on the leading conspirators. Many even of 
the great towns which were believed to have sympathized 
with them, were condemned to forfeit their charters; and 
Charles, thinking that he had sufficiently crushed his own 
and his brother’s enemies, and passing from his former fears 
to an excess of confidence, ventured even to dispense, 
in the Duke’s favour, with the Test Act, to which he had 
recently consented, and to replace him in his office of 
Lord High Admiral, without requiring him to comply with 
its provisions. 

So open a violation of the law did not strengthen the 
Government. The ministers themselves began to quarrel 
with one another, and Charles was more alarmed and more 
perplexed than ever. Each councillor gave him different 


Death of Charles II. 17 

advice, and, as he listened to each, he agreed, or seemed to 
them and to himself to agree, with each; being steady to 
nothing but to his subservience to Louis, who, puzzled and 
irritated by his irresolution, treated him with daily-increasing 
disregard, and, while still bribing him, began at the same 
moment to bribe his chief advisers to counteract and con¬ 
strain him. It was becoming daily more and more doubtful 
whether his affability and graciousness of demeanour would 
be able to avert a renewal of rebellion, when, at the begin¬ 
ning of 1685, he died of apoplexy, his last act being an 
avowal on his death-bed of his adherence to the Roman 
Catholic Church, to which he had for many years secretly 
belonged. I 


i8 


CHAPTER II. 

Popularity of James II. on his Accession—Easy Suppression of Monmouth’s 
Rebellion—James begins to violate the Law—James becomes a 
Pensioner of Louis XIV.—Composition of the Ministry—He seeks 
to procure the Repeal of the Test Act and Habeas Corpus Act—He 
brings up the Army to Hounslow Heath—He quarrels with the Houses 
of Parliament—Dismisses Lord Halifax—Revocation of the Edict of 
Nantes—The Reassembling of Parliament — The King's Speech— 
Firmness of both Houses—James Prorogues the Parliament—The 
Pope and the High Tories remonstrate—Lord Castlemaine is sent as 
Ambassador to Rome. 


Since Charles had left no legitimate children, the Duke of 
York, as a matter of course, succeeded to the throne as 
James II. And for a moment the whole aspect of affairs, 
and the feelings of the different parties in the State, seemed 
to have undergone a complete alteration; and that of the 
strangest character. While Charles was alive, a suspicion 
that James cherished a secret inclination to the Roman 
Catholic religion had been sufficient to provoke more than 
one conspiracy, and to encourage an open attempt in Parlia¬ 
ment to effect such a revolution as would have been involved 
in a change of the order of succession to the throne. But, 
as if dangers when present were less to be feared than when 
only in prospect, with the accession of a Popish king all 
dread of Popery seemed for a moment to be extinguished. 
All memory that an Exclusion Bill had nearly been carried 
appeared to have passed away, and James not only ascended 


First Measures of James. 19 

the throne with the acquiescence of all, but for a brief time 
was even popular. 

Aware of the suspicions which had been entertained 
of his disposition to assert an arbitrary authority, and to 
exalt the Roman Catholic religion above and at the ex¬ 
pense of Protestantism, he had the judgment, in his first 
speech to the Privy Council, to endeavour to remove both 
those causes of apprehension ; and in clear emphatic lan¬ 
guage declared his resolution to maintain the established 
government in both Church and State; his firm reliance on 
the loyalty of Churchmen, which he promised to requite 
with steady support and protection ; and his entire content¬ 
ment with the degree of authority which the law of England 
secured to the Sovereign, so that he should never desire 
any power beyond it. 

The speech was his only attempt at conciliation during 
his whole reign, perhaps it might be said during his whole 
life, but it succeeded perfectly. The Council received it 
with acclamation, and when it was published it was 
applauded with equal fervour by the nation at large. 
His general roughness of manner had obtained for him 
a reputation for sincerity; and the boast of both parties, 
of the assertors of the civil rights of the people, and of the 
resolute champions of Protestant doctrine, was that they had 
for their security the promise of a King who never broke his 
word. 

So complete was the reaction in his favour that an 
attempt to dethrone him, which was made in the course of 
the summer, only added to his strength. The Duke of 
Monmouth, who made it, a few years before had been the 
most popular man in the kingdom; he was an illegitimate 
son of the late King, and had been distinguished at Court 

' c 2 


20 


The English Revolution. 

by marks of his father’s favour, which were not bestowed on 
any of his brothers. He had commanded a British division 
in the short war against Holland, where he had gained the 
hearts of the soldiers, and had earned some reputation as a 
brave and skilful officer. He had equally ingratiated himself 
with Churchmen as a faithful adherent of the Church, so 
that many of them asserted his legitimacy in spite of the 
King’s denial. And no small number of those who had 
supported the Exclusion Bill had done so with the express 
object of securing his succession to the throne. 

But when, four months after his father’s death, he 
crossed over to the Dorsetshire coast in the hope of 
deposing James by force of arms, scarcely one of those 
who had formerly favoured his pretensions joined him. 
Both Houses of Parliament, with an unanimity which they 
had hardly shown since the first year of the restored 
monarchy, concurred in attainting him, setting a price 
on his head, and in passing Votes of extraordinary Supply 
to enable the King to crush his enterprise in the bud. At 
the end of a month the whole force which he had been 
able to collect did not exceed 6,000 men, nearly all of whom 
belonged to the poorer classes, and who proved wholly 
unable to make a stand against the King’s troops, though 
greatly inferior in number. In the one brief conflict which 
took place, and in which Monmouth himself failed to show 
the daring courage which becomes one who depends on 
victory for a crown, he was utterly defeated, was taken 
prisoner; and, in accordance with the Bill of Attainder 
already passed, was executed without any further form of 
trial. 

Such an enterprise, made ridiculous by the ease with 
which it was crushed,- was manifestly calculated to strengthen 


21 


Suppression of Monmouth's Rebellion . 

the victorious King. Nor could it have failed to do so 
materially had not the ferocious cruelty, not unmixed with 
sordid baseness with which he chastised it, spread a wide 
alarm, and, among people of sense, humanity, and modera¬ 
tion, a disgust deeper and more mischievous to himself than 
the terror which it was meant to excite. Hundreds, 
including many innocent persons, were executed; James 
refusing every petition for mercy, and showing that, as Lord 
Churchill said, “ Marble itself was not harder than he,” 
while the fate of many of those who were spared cast even 
deeper personal disgrace on the Court, since the Queen her¬ 
self did not scruple to make a profit of them, but received 
a large portion of the price for which they were sold to 
work as slaves in the West Indies. 

In one point of view, indeed, the ease and speed with 
which his enemy had been overthrown had a most per¬ 
nicious influence on James’s subsequent fortunes. His was 
a head easily turned by the slightest appearance of suc¬ 
cess. Before he had been a fortnight on the throne, he had 
drawn an argument from the absence of all opposition to his 
accession, to encourage him in violations both of the common 
and Constitutional law. 1 He had issued a proclamation, 
ordering the continuance of the collection of the customs 


i “ Le Roy d’Angleterre a ajoutd a cela.que j’avais 

vu avec quelle facility il avait ete reconnu et proclamd Roy; que le reste 
arrivera de la meme maniere en se conduisant avec fermete et sagesse,” 
the “ rest ” being to levy the customs and other branches of the revenue 
enjoyed by the late King for the next three months by his own authority, 

which would be “un coup decisif..Car dans la suite 

il me sera (said he) bien plus facile ou d’61oigner le Parlement, ou de me 
maintenir par des autres voyes que me paraitraient bien plus convenables.” 
Barillon, to Louis XIV., relating a conversation which he had had with 
James, Feb. i8th, Charles having died on the 6th.— Dalrymple, Vol. III., 
part I., pp. ioo, ioi. 




22 The English Revolution. 

and other taxes by his own authority, without waiting for 
Parliament to grant them to him. He had gone to mass 
with all possible publicity and pomp, as if in express defiance 
of those penal laws which his brother had been forced to 
abandon the attempt to relax. And when, in the middle of 
May, the Parliament met, in his opening speech he had ad¬ 
dressed them in language which was hardly to be distinguished 
from a threat, and which clearly indicated his expectation 
that his compliance with the laws, and with the Constitu¬ 
tional limitations of his authority, was to be acknowledged 
to flow from his own condescension, and not from any 
right which the people could possess to enforce it. 

In fact, he had already resolved to trample on both. 
Almost his earliest act as King had been to renew the 
dependence on the French King which had been so dis¬ 
graceful to his brother; soliciting, with the most abject 
humiliation, a continuance of the yearly subsidy which had 
been paid to Charles ; and assuring Barillon, the French 
Ambassador, that the object for which, above all others, 
he desired this aid, was the establishment of the Roman 
Catholic religion in every part of his dominions on a secure 
and permanent footing; and next to that, if, indeed, the two 
objects were not parts of one and the same plan, to render 
his authority absolute, 1 so that he might be able to coerce 
the Houses of Parliament, or, if he found them too re¬ 
fractory, to dispense with convoking them altogether. 

And he had already organized a Council, fully prepared 
to co-operate with him in one part of his design. The Earl 

, \ 

1 “ Qu'il savait assez que jamais il ne serait en une entiere surete que la 
religion catholique ne fut dtablie en Angleterre de facjon a ne pouvoir 
etre ruinee ni d^truite.” — Barillon in Dalrymple, p. 141, date 
March 26th. 


Designs of Janies. 


23 


of Rochester, his brother-in-law, was Lord Treasurer; the 
Earl of Sunderland was Secretary of State; the Earl of 
Godolphin was the Queen’s Chamberlain ; and these 
men came together to Barillon to announce to him the 
King’s resolution to make himself independent of his Par¬ 
liament, and to assure him that, with that view, he would 
refuse to accept a revenue which should only be granted 
from year to year ; an arrangement which “ would lay him 
under the necessity of continually convoking Parliament, 
and thus,” as he regarded the matter, “ change the form 
of government” 

Rather than submit to such a necessity, he was pre¬ 
pared “to maintain himself by open force in the enjoyment 
of the same revenues which had been granted to his 
brother during his life.” And they urged on the French¬ 
man that his own Sovereign’s interests were so closely con¬ 
cerned in James’s success, that it was well worth his while 
to support him by an increased contribution. While, not 
contented with thus prostrating himself at the French 
King’s feet, James wrote at the same time to the Prince of 
Orange, the husband of his daughter, who, as yet, was the 
heiress of his crown, to insist on his renouncing his hostility 
to Louis, a demand to which William, while acceding to 
others of his requests, abstained from replying. 

The French King gave the money, and James proceeded 
to prosecute his designs with energy, every day laying 
aside more and more the mask of moderation which he 
had at first assumed. Even if he should not be able to 
induce the Parliament to grant him his revenues for life, he 
did not propose as yet to dismiss it, because its consent 
was indispensable to two measures which he had greatly at " 
heart. Two laws, which had been passed in the late reign, 


24 


The English Revolution . 


were the objects of his especial detestation, the Test Act 
and the Habeas Corpus Act. According to the view which 
he took of them, “ one was the destruction of the Catholic 
religion, and the other of the Royal authority.” 1 And it 
was absolutely necessary to his views to procure the repeal 
of them both. The Houses must continue to sit for a 
while, till he had bent them to his purpose by a combina¬ 
tion of intimidation and persuasion. Persuasion he could 
indeed try with but few, the leaders of the two Houses, 
whom he might summon to personal interviews; but in¬ 
timidation could be applied on a larger scale, to the whole 
Parliament, and even to the people out of Parliament, and 
especially to the citizens of London, a population rarely of 
late favourable to the Crown. 

Full of this design, he regarded the invasion of Mon¬ 
mouth with complacency, as supplying him with a pretext for 
raising an army, and thus making himself master of the 
country. 2 And, after the crisis was past, instead of disband¬ 
ing the troops, he brought them up to the neighbourhood of 
the capital, and encamped them on Hounslow Heath, 
announcing to Barillon his resolution to keep them under 
arms, whether the Parliament granted him Supplies for the 
purpose, or refused them. And the determination which 
he thus expressed he acted up to. Parliament, which had 

i Charles II. had taken the same view of the Habeas Corpus Act. " Le 
fou Roy d’Angleterre et celui-cy m’ont souvent dit qu'un gouvernement ne 
peut subsistre avec une telle loy.”— Barillon in Dalrymple, p. 171. 

3 “ 11 me parait que le Roy d’Angleterre a £t6 fort aise d’avoir une pr£- 
texte de lever des troupes, et qu’il croit que l’entreprise de M. le Due de 
Monmouth ne servira qu’a le rendre plus maitre de son pays.”— Barillon 
in Dalrymple, p. 169. 

This was written in June. August 6th he writes, “Le R. d’A. m’a dit 
que, quoiqu'il arriveil conservera les troupes sur pied, quand meme leparle- 
ment ne lui donnerait rien pour les entretenir.”— lb. p. 170. 


Meeting of Parliament. 


25 


necessarily been adjourned on Monmouth’s invasion, met 
again in the second week of November. In its previous 
session, both Houses, and especially the House of Com¬ 
mons, had shown themselves singularly complaisant. They 
had conferred on him for life all the revenue which had 
been enjoyed by Charles; they had even exhibited a 
willingness to grant him a further Supply; and the only 
vote which seemed dictated by any feeling but a desire to 
give him entire satisfaction was one by which the Com¬ 
mons, while sitting in Committee, had requested him to 
enforce the penal laws against Nonconformists; even this 
vote having been subsequently reversed in the whole House, 
which resolved instead that, “ they relied on his gracious 
promise to protect that Protestant religion which was dearer 
to them than life itself.” 

Such a concession on their part made it evident that 
nothing but the grossest provocation, or the strongest convic¬ 
tion of absolute necessity, would induce them to put them¬ 
selves in steady opposition to his wishes; and equally evident 
that nothing but the most entire want, not only of political 
sagacity, but of common sense, could ever lead him to give 
them such provocation. Yet, in less than a fortnight after 
they had assembled for the second session, he quarrelled 
with both Houses so irreconcilably that he would never 
allow them to meet again : as if he were resolved to tread in 
his father’s steps on the most dangerous road which that 
unfortunate Prince had ever taken. 

The two Houses were not, indeed, quite so much disposed 
to be unsuspicious and complaisant as they had been at their 
first meeting. They had lately had a warning not only of 
the King’s designs, but of the inflexible resolution with 
which he was prepared to carry them out, in his ungrateful 


26 


The English Revolution. 


treatment of one of his most faithful and upright servants. 
In the last reign, the rejection of the Exclusion Bill by the 
House of Lords had been chiefly owing to the eloquence 
of the Marquis of Halifax, and James, on his accession, 
had expressed to the Marquis himself the warmest gratitude 
for the service which he had done him on that occasion. 
Halifax was President of the Council, and James, believing 
him to be attached to office, and certainly not unfriendly to 
himself, in more than one private conference tried to win 
him over to his own views respecting the two obnoxious 
laws. But Halifax could not be brought to abandon either 
the Test Act or the Habeas Corpus Act, and James, in high 
displeasure, struck his name out of the roll of the Privy 
Council, against the advice of the shrewdest of his courtiers, 
who warned him of the danger of driving a man so able 
and so popular into the ranks of the Opposition, and to the 
great discontent of the nation in general, who believed the 
expelled minister to be in some degree the victim of the 
enmity of Louis, because he had always opposed the influ¬ 
ence of France, which a recent act of the French King in his 
own country caused most men now to regard with deeper 
distrust and abhorrence than ever. 

Almost at the same time that the dismissal of Lord 
Halifax was made public, intelligence arrived that Louis had 
revoked the Edict of Nantes, by which Henry IV. had 
granted security for their religion to the French Huguenots; 1 
and one of the French prelates, in a speech which had 
been just published, had proclaimed the closeness of the 
alliance which subsisted between the two monarchs, affirming 
that James looked to Louis for support against his heretical 

i The Edict of Nantes was revoked Oct. 2nd, 1685. Halifax was dis¬ 
missed from the Council Oct. 21st. 


The Kings Speech. 


2; 


people. The deeds and the language alike filled all 
England with indignation and alarm ; men could hardly 
doubt that nothing but a want of equal power restrained 
James from acting with the same bad faith and cruelty as 
Louis. And, while they were in this temper, the 9th of 
November arrived, the day that had been fixed for the re¬ 
assembling of the Parliament, which had been adjourned 
on the news of Monmouth’s invasion. 

James opened it in person with a speech which he had 
himself composed. No Parliament had ever met under 
circumstances which rendered conciliatory language and 
conduct more needful; while their conduct in the previous 
session proved that the members were not inclined to mis¬ 
construe the King’s words, nor to show any uncalled-for 
distrust of his designs. Yet no speech was ever delivered 
more full of provocation, and even of insult. He disparaged 
the value of the militia; he demanded an additional Supply 
for the maintenance of an army of regular troops, larger 
than any former Sovereign had had at his command except 
in times of actual war; and he ended his harangue by 
announcing that many of the officers to whom he had given 
commissions were legally disqualified for them, as being 
Roman Catholics, and consequently not having taken the 
necessary tests; but that they were all men known to himself, 
“ who had proved the loyalty of their principles by their prac¬ 
tices, and,” he added in conclusion, “ I will deal plainly with 
you, that after having had the benefit of their service in such 
time of need and danger, I will neither expose them to 
disgrace, nor myself to the want of them in case any new 
rebellion should make them necessary for me.” His dis¬ 
paragement of the militia seemed almost like a studied 
affront to the country gentlemen, from whom the officers 


28 


The English Revolution. 


were drawn, and by whom, as by all their dependents, it was 
regarded as pre-eminently the national force of the kingdom. 

The display of a desire to keep up an unprecedentedly 
large standing army bore the appearance of a menace to 
the whole nation, which had not yet forgotten the miseries 
which their fathers had suffered from the crimes and tyranny 
of the army forty years before. To speak of the probability 
of a new rebellion was to intimate an insulting distrust of 
the whole nation, whose loyalty at the recent crisis showed 
it to be undeserved. And to follow up these unpleasing 
topics by an open announcement that he had broken, and 
that he intended to continue to break the law, which nearly 
every Protestant in the kingdom regarded as the chief safe¬ 
guard of his religion, was a challenge to the Parliament to 
try their strength at upholding that law from which it was 
not likely to shrink. 

Accordingly, the Royal speech did not receive even the 
customary thanks of the two Houses without severe criti¬ 
cism and contention. The Lords, indeed, did, after some 
debate, consent to pass the usual vote of thanks ; though 
the comment of the Earl of Devonshire, that “ he was 
willing to thank his Majesty for having spoken out so 
plainly as to warn them what they had to expect,” 1 more 
than neutralized their formal acceptance of his declaration. 
But the Commons refused to express any opinion on the 


i Lord Macaulay attributes this sarcasm to Halifax, and speaks of it as 
uttered in the debate which took place four days afterwards. The account 
followed in the text is that of Burnet and Dalrymple. It is a matter of 
little consequence; but, besides that Burnet seems the best authority, it is 
evidently more probable that a pointed saying made by some one else 
should be attributed to a man so eminent for his keen wit as Halifax, than 
that a sarcasm, really uttered by Halifax, should be assigned by anyone to 
a less conspicuous speaker, such as the Earl of Devonshire. 


Debate on the Kings Speech. 


29 


spur of the moment, and adjourned for three days, which 
were spent by both parties in organizing their forces and 
their plans. 

When the day of debate came, the leaders of the 
country party, as the Opposition was still called, carried 
their point of examining the speech sentence by sentence, 
and topic by topic; and, in the choice which subject should 
come first, obtained a victory over the Government on a 
point which, however the Government might represent it as 
one of mere form, and, as such, trivial, was, in truth, one 
of vital importance, in regard both of the general principle 
and of the degree in which, throughout the whole of the 
Parliamentary history, the adoption of the order now 
contended for had contributed to the gradual establish¬ 
ment of the national liberty. Whenever questions of 
grievance and of Supply were both to be discussed, the 
wholesome practice had been to discuss the abuses com¬ 
plained of first, so that the grant of Supply might be 
subsequent to, and practically conditional on, the redress 
or removal of the subject of complaint. 

There were a grievance and a Supply to be discussed 
now; but the King’s speech had inverted the old order of 
discussion, and had put forward his need of a Supply 
before mentioning his disregard of the Test Act. The 
country party moved to return to the old practice, and 
to consider first the paragraph which avowed the employ¬ 
ment of unqualified officers; and, in spite of all the 
exertions of the Court and the ministers, who left no 
artifice of cajolery or intimidation untried, they defeated 
the Government by a majority of 1. And after this victory 
they had little difficulty in carrying an Address to the King 
on the subject of the Test Act, in which, while they under- 


30 


The English Revolution. 

took to pass a Bill to indemnify the officers who had 
hitherto served him without the legal qualification, they at 
the same time pointed out to him that “ the continuing 
them in their employments might be taken to a dispensing 
with the law without an Act of Parliament, the consequence 
of which was of the greatest concern to the rights of all his 
Majesty’s subjects, and to all the laws made for the security 
of their religion;” and therefore they requested him to “give 
such directions therein that no apprehensions or jealousies 
might remain in the hearts of his most loyal subjects.” 

They then proceeded to consider the amount of Supply 
to be granted. That some Supply should be given they had 
already resolved ; that resolution they had followed by a 
second, that a Bill should be brought in to render the 
militia more efficient; and this latter vote had been under¬ 
stood to imply a determination only to grant a sufficient 
sum to keep up the existing force of regular troops till the 
militia could be remodelled. . 

The ministers, who took the same view of it, hoped, 
nevertheless, to elude it by the amount and application 
of the Supply, but their method of proceeding only gave 
the country party a second victory. They demanded 

i, 200,000, and would have had the vote express that 
the money was granted for the maintenance of the troops. 
The opposition, by a majority of more than 40, reduced 
the amount by ^500,000, and made no mention of the 
service to which the money was to be applied, avoiding, 
by this silence, all appearance of giving a parliamentary 
sanction to the retention of so large a force. James 
was greatly displeased, nor, when the Commons waited 
on him with their Address, could he bridle his anger. 
Though the Address was couched in the most studiously 


Debate on the King's Speech . 


3i 


respectful terms, he replied with what he intended for a 
severe reprimand, complaining of their want of confidence 
in him and in his word, though, he added, their behaviour 
to him should not provoke him to forget his promises to 
them. 

It was an ill-judged display of bad temper, and it pro¬ 
duced a fruit which he had been far from expecting. On 
the day of the opening of Parliament, the Upper House 
had shown an inclination to be more complaisant than their 
brother legislators of the Lower House, but the King’s 
reply to the dutiful and moderate expostulation of the 
Commons now filled them also with apprehension, and 
some of the most eloquent and influential of the Peers, not 
all of them members of the Whig party, brought forward a 
motion to fix a day for taking the King’s opening speech 
into consideration, nor would they be moved from their 
purpose by the argument of the ministers that they had 
already voted his Majesty ‘thanks for it. It was evident 
that the King’s answer to the Address of the Commons, 
abstaining as it did from expressing the slightest intention 
of yielding to their remonstrance on the employment of the 
officers who refused the Test, had made a most unfavourable 
impression. 

It was, indeed, openly avowed that this was the case 
by Compton, Bishop of London, who had formerly been 
preceptor of the King’s daughters, the Princesses Mary 
and Anne, and who now energetically supported the pro¬ 
posal to discuss the speech, declaring that, in what he said, 
he was the authorized mouthpiece of his brethren on the 
Episcopal bench, and that they were all of one opinion that 
the Test was the best security for their religion ; that if the 
King could dispense with that, he could dispense with any 


32 


The English Revolution. 


other law, or with every law; and that the people would 
thus be living under an absolute and despotic Government. 

Once more the ministers were beaten; a day was fixed 
for debating the speech, but the debate never took place. 
Though James could not prorogue the Parliament before 
the Bill for the grant (which the Commons had already 
agreed to) had gone through the usual steps without aban¬ 
doning the promised Supply, he preferred the loss of that 
great sum to the risk of being compelled by the unanimity 
of both Houses on the subject to renounce his claim to 
dispense with the Test Act. He at once deprived the 
Bishop of London of the Deanery of the Chapel Royal, 
and the very next morning he came down to the House of 
Lords, and, to quote the description of the French Ambas¬ 
sador, “ with marks of haughtiness and anger on his coun¬ 
tenance which gave sufficient indication of his sentiments,” 
prorogued the Parliament till the spring. It had sat but 
eleven days, and he never allowed it to meet again, but 
governed without one for the rest of his reign. He pro¬ 
fessed, indeed, to take warnings from his father’s example 
and fate, but misunderstood and misapplied them with a 
strange blindness, often repeating that his father had been 
ruined because he had made concessions, while the obvious 
truth was that his destruction had been owing, not to his 
making concessions at all, but to his making them, or 
rather abandoning his illegal pretensions, too late. 

From this time forth, therefore, James’s reign was an un¬ 
alloyed and undisguised despotism; and one which was not 
made more tolerable by the character of the objects aimed 
at, or by the manner in which they were prosecuted. 

Before the prorogation, he had in some degree conde¬ 
scended to conceal his sentiments, at least from the main body 


Treatment of the French Huguenots. 33 

of the people; though to Barillon himself he had declared 
the joy with which he had heard of the revocation of the 
Edict of Nantes, and of the success of Louis’ efforts, “ for 
the extirpation of heresy in France,” 1 which he described as 
having no parallel in any age nor in any country, he had 
declared in public that he disapproved of the severities 
practised on the French Huguenots; had granted some of 
the exiles relief from his privy purse; and had even authorized 
a national subscription being set on foot for them. But now 
that he had cast aside all fear of Parliament, which he was 
resolved to summon no more, he retraced his steps; recalled 
his proclamation in favour of the refugees; caused some of 
their works, though published in France and written in 
French, to be burnt by the common hangman; used his 
utmost endeavours to stifle the subscription which he had 
sanctioned; and, with strange inconsistency, when, in spite 
of, or perhaps in consequence of, his disapproval, it had 
reached the magnificent sum of ^40,000, he prohibited the 
slightest aid from the fund being granted to any one of them 
who should not first take the Sacrament according to the 
form of the Church of England. Much as he hated that 
Church, he preferred to pay it a compliment, which it did not 
desire, rather than allow the French Huguenots, whom being 
Calvinists he regarded with even greater bitterness, to 
be relieved in their destitution by English sympathy and 
liberality. 

We shall fail to form an adequate estimate of the impolicy 
and headlong folly of the course which James now adopted, 
if we overlook the fact that it was disapproved by all the 

1 See two despatches of Barillon, quoted in Dalrymple , Vol. III., 
App., pp. 177, 178, one being dated in the summer of 1686, but the other 
as early as Oct. 5th, 1685, five weeks before the meeting of the Parliament. 

D 


34 


The English Revolution. 


ablest and most respectable members of the Roman Catholic 
body. The Pope himself, Innocent XI., a prelate of high 
character for personal virtue and for ability, urged him to 
moderate his zeal, being probably guided in no slight degree 
by the opinions of Count Adda, whom, at James’s special 
request, he had sent over to England as Nuncio, and of the 
Vicar Apostolic, John Leyburn, who was himself an English¬ 
man. They agreed in reporting to Rome that by a mode¬ 
rate policy, and an adherence to the Constitution, James 
might probably succeed in obtaining great relaxations of the 
existing laws for their co-religionists ; and the most eminent 
of the Roman Catholic lay nobles did not scruple to urge 
the same opinion. They were seconded by the leaders of 
that party among the Protestants whose principles led them 
to show the greatest deference to the Crown. The high 
Tories, whose leading representatives at this time were the 
Duke of Ormond and the Earls of Clarendon and Rochester; 
the Duke the faithful and illustrious servant of his father; 
the Earls his own brothers-in-law, bound, therefore, by every 
family tie and every consideration of personal interest to 
uphold his authority, and further his plans even to the 
length of putting some force on their consciences. 

But these men were thrown into great difficulties and per¬ 
plexities by the line of conduct which the King was resolved 
to adopt, and still more by the motives which led him to 
adopt it. As Constitutional statesmen, they were all eager 
champions of the monarchy; and the two Earls were espe¬ 
cially bound, by their respect for their father’s memory, to 
look on the ancient laws and charters of the kingdom as 
inseparable ingredients in the Constitutional monarchy of 
England. The maintenance of the Church of England was 
in their eyes equally a part of the Constitution : equally in- 


Servility of Lord Sunderland. 


35 


dispensable to the real freedom of the people. It was even 
to his fidelity to the principle of the strict union of Church 
and State that, in their eyes, the King’s father had principally 
owed his death. But the whole policy of James was to place 
Church and State, not in union, but in direct antagonism to 
each other; to make the State the destroyer of the Church, 
thus rendering one part of their duty irreconcilable with 
the other. 

Their perplexity was increased by their possession of lucra¬ 
tive and honourable offices : Rochester was Lord Treasurer, 
Clarendon was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland; and it was 
easy to foresee that a refusal to comply with the royal de¬ 
mands on all points might cost them their places. They 
implored their royal kinsman not to place them in the cruel 
dilemma of having either to withstand the royal authority or 
to desert their religion. Their remonstrances were addressed 
to ears deafened by the hearer’s ideas of the sacred character 
of his authority. Complain as they might, threaten as they 
might, he had persuaded himself that the very soundness of 
their Churchmanship would keep them on his side, that no 
violence to their religion would lead into actual disobedience 
men who knew and owned that religion enjoined them to 
honour the King as one of the first of duties. And under 
the influence of this conviction he went on blindly and un¬ 
flinchingly in the course that he had marked out for himself, 
though only one of his ministers, the Earl of Sunderland, 
gave him the least encouragement. 

Sunderland, who had been Secretary of State under 
Charles II., and who had held the same office ever since 
James’s accession, had pursued the policy adopted by more 
than one of the ministers in the late reign, of ingratiating 
himself with Louis as well as with his own master. For 


D 2 


36 


The English Revolution . 


a large annual pension from France, he had undertaken to 
dissuade James from ever again meeting a Parliament; and 
in a very few months he had so won on the King’s confidence 
that, on the dismissal of Halifax, he had been allowed to 
add the dignity of President of the Council to the office 
which he already enjoyed. He was ready even to renounce 
his religion and to turn Roman Catholic; and such a step 
was soon found to be indispensable to any one who sought 
an enduring influence with James; who neither in politics 
nor in religion could tolerate any scruples which opposed 
themselves to his will. Sunderland was a man of considerable 
talents; but the other advisers of the King were as incapable 
as they were profligate. 

One was Lord Castlemaine, known only as the husband 
of one of the late King’s mistresses, the Duchess of 
Cleveland, whose dishonour had procured for him an 
Irish earldom. Another was Lord Tyrconnel, whom James 
himself had raised to the peerage, though among his deeds 
of infamy was one which the King, as a man of common 
honour, ought to have regarded with everlasting resentment; 
since, by a series of the foulest lies, he had endeavoured to 
stain the reputation of his first Duchess, the mother of his 
daughters. For both, James had employment in store. 
Tyrconnel was employed as Commander-in-Chief in Ireland. 
Castlemaine was sent as ambassador to Rome, where the 
Pope received him with a studied coldness that was, no 
doubt, meant as an indication of his disapproval of his 
master’s policy. N or was it strange that his Holiness should 
regard James’s system with such feelings, for Innocent XI. 
was inclined to depart from the attitude which his prede¬ 
cessors had assumed in France towards the Jansenists, and 
consequently to discourage the Jesuits, who were notoriously 


Failure of Castlemaines Negotiations. 37 

the chief prompters of the recent measures of the English 
Court. 

One of the favours which Castlemaine was most espe¬ 
cially instructed to solicit, was the grant of a Cardinal’s hat 
for Father Petre, the Vice-Provincial of the Jesuit Order 
in England, and James’s chief counsellor in all ecclesiastical 
matters. But with this request Innocent steadily refused 
compliance; and after a residence at Rome of about a 
twelvemonth, the ambassador returned to England, having 
brought nothing but ridicule on his master and on himself 
by the notorious failure of his mission, and the arrogant ill- 
temper with which he bore it. 


38 


CHAPTER III. 

Violence of Lord Tyrconnel in Ireland—State of Ireland—The massacre 
of 1641—Tyrconnel succeeds Lord Clarendon as Lord Lieutenant — 
The Protestants are gradually dismissed from employment—Conduct 
of the Government in Scotland—General hatred of Popery in the 
Scotch nation—James quarrels with the Privy Council and with the 
Estates—James dispenses with penal statutes in England—The case 
of Sir Edward Hales—Preferments in the Church are conferred on 
Roman Catholics—Establishment of a Court of High Commission— 
The case of Dr. Sharp and Bishop Compton—Roman Catholic 
convents, &c., are established in London—Position and character of 
the Prince of Orange. 

Unhappily, the work entrusted to Tyrconnel was not 
equally barren of results. To him, as an Irishman, the 
whole conduct of affairs in Ireland was gradually committed ; 
and it was the peculiar misfortune of that country that the 
King could not there prosecute his designs of setting 
Church against Church, without, at the same time, bringing 
on it the still greater evil of setting race against race; for 
in Ireland, if those who professed the Roman Catholic 
religion could complain of injustice, it was injustice which 
fell upon them, not as Roman Catholics, but as Irishmen. 
Those immigrants, whether of Norman, or, more rarely, of 
British blood, who had settled in Ireland under the Planta- 
genets, had, in a few generations, amalgamated so completely 
with the natives that, in the quaint language of an old 
statute, they had become more Irish than the Irish them¬ 
selves . 1 


1 Ipsis Hibernis Hiberniores. 


Affairs of Ireland . 


39 


The two races had become one, calling themselves, and 
being called, emphatically the Irish, to distinguish them 
from the settlers of English or Scotch blood who, since the 
accession of Elizabeth, had been induced to establish them¬ 
selves in the country. Between these new-comers and the 
old inhabitants there was but little goodwill. The English 
and Scotch despised the Irish as little better than savages. 
The Irish hated them as intruders. Strafford, while he held 
the reins of Government as Lord Deputy, awed both into 
quiet; but, when he was removed, the international enmity 
broke out fiercely, and in 1641 the Irish, under Sir Phelim 
O’Neill, rose in insurrection with the deliberate design of 
massacring all the English and Protestants in the land. 

To a great extent they carried out their horrible purpose; 
they failed, indeed, in their attack on Dublin Castle, and were 
similarly baffled in one or two other places where vigilant 
leaders were warned in time, either by pitying friends, or by 
their own suspicions. But those who were thus saved were 
few; the great bulk of the new settlers were taken unawares, 
and all who fell into the hands of their enemies were 
slaughtered without mercy. The number of those who 
perished, greatly magnified at first, as was natural, by the 
exaggerations of fear, could only be reckoned by tens of 
thousands; 1 and, if their fate bred in those who survived, and 

* The first estimates reached the incredible amount of 200,000. The 
latest and lowest, that of Sir W. Petty, reduced the number to 37,000. 
But the long struggle which ensued between the two parties was far more 
fatal than the first assault. “It is almost enough to say that the blood 
spilt in the winter of 1641-2, was not washed out till, according to the 
elaborate computation of Sir W. Petty, out of an entire population of 
1,500,000, more than 500,000 had, by sword, famine, and pestilence, been 
miserably destroyed.”— Froudf. : The English in Ireland , p. 113. 

Twenty pages further on, Mr. Froude says, “ The surviving population 
was estimated by Dr. Petty at about 850,000, of whom 150,000 were English 


40 


The English Revolution. 

in those who afterwards came over, a detestation of the race 
whom they knew to have contrived the massacre, the ferocity 
with which Cromwell afterwards avenged it kept alive the 
feelings which had prompted it among the Irish themselves. 

The hatred, therefore, which subsisted between the two 
races was now bitterer than ever; being, perhaps, aggravated 
on both sides by the feeling that their strength was less 
unequal than at any former period. 1 In religion they dif¬ 
fered wholly. Among the Irish there were few Protestants ; 
among the English and Scotch there was probably not one 
Roman Catholic; so that to raise the Roman Catholic 
religion over Protestantism in Ireland was to raise the old 
Irish above the new settlers; and not only to intensify the 
feud existing between the two, which a wiser ruler would have 
made it his most anxious care to mitigate, but to give the 
preponderance to that race which was known to be hostile 
to English rule. 

It has been truly pointed out that James had peculiar 
qualifications for allaying the animosities which existed, since 
the old Irish looked on him as a brother Catholic, the 
English and Scotch as a sovereign of their own blood ; so 
that both parties might reasonably regard him as one dis¬ 
and Scots.”— lb. 133. It is remarkable that O'Neill did not at first intend 
to include the Scotch in the slaughter. “The Scots, of whom there were 
several thousand families in Ulster, were to be left, if possible, unmolested. 
To divide the interests of Scots from English would make the work more 
easy.”— lb. 98. 

1 Lord Macaulay, Vol. II. 127, estimates the population of the whole 
island, in 1686, at nearly 2,200,000, of whom about 200,000 were “ colonists 
proud of their Saxon blood and of their Protestant faith.” But Mr. 
Froude, speaking of a time a few years earlier (1665), says, “The propor¬ 
tion of Protestants to Catholics had increased very considerably since the 
[Cromwellian] settlement. Of the latter, there were now 800,000 ; of the 
former 300,000.”— The English in Ireland , p. 154. It is certain that the 
Protestants must have increased during the next twenty years. 


Administration of Lord Tyrconnel. 41 

posed to look favourably on their claims, and therefore might 
be expected willingly to receive him as a mediator. But 
mediation requires impartiality, while both religious bigotry, 
and his belief in his right to absolute power, prevented James 
from putting on even the semblance of impartiality. They 
even restricted his choice of an agent to Irishmen; for, 
as he said, “there was work to be done in Ireland which no 
Englishman would doand, so far as an utter absence of 
scruples or shame was needful in the servant he was to trust, 
it could not be denied that Tyrconnel was a fitting instru¬ 
ment. At first he was only appointed Commander-in-Chief, 
Clarendon being still allowed to remain as Lord-Lieutenant; 
but at the beginning of 1687 the English governor was 
removed, and Tyrconnel was suffered to combine both 
offices. From the first moment, however, of his landing in 
Ireland, all the real power was in his hands, and the nominal 
Viceroy found himself compelled to submit to his dictation. 
As early as Monmouth’s rebellion, Tyrconnel had begun to 
disarm the Protestant gentry on the plea that they favoured 
the invader; and even after that danger was past, Clarendon 
was compelled to prosecute the disarmament more strin¬ 
gently, and thus to leave the Protestants wholly at the mercy 
of their enemies. 

Presently, fresh orders were sent over to fill the municipal 
corporations and the Privy Council with Roman Catholics, 
often of a rank from which Privy Councillors had never 
been taken before, so that the Protestant nobles refused 
to sit at the same Board with them, and the very men who 
were thus promoted were ashamed of their dignities, as con¬ 
ferred on them in open violation of all law and precedent. 
The Protestant bishoprics which fell in were kept vacant, 
that their revenues might be given to Roman Catholic pre- 


42 


The English Revolution. 


lates, while, to prevent the possibility of resistance, the army 
also was carefully weeded. In a few months, above 4,000 
Protestants were cashiered, though the officers had, gene¬ 
rally, bought their commissions. And, as the common 
soldiers were stripped of their uniforms, the naked and 
destitute condition in which they were turned adrift caused 
an almost universal consternation. The more respectable 
Roman Catholics themselves disapproved of the violence 
of these acts, which at first they were inclined to impute 
rather to the folly of Tyrconnel himself than to James; 
Lord Bellasis, whom the King had made Lord Treasurer on 
Rochester’s dismissal, openly saying that “ that fellow was 
madman enough to ruin ten kingdoms.” But it proved that 
James’s own instructions were so violent that no rashness of 
any subordinate officer could outrun them, and that Tyrconnel 
might probably have pleaded, as did Jefferies after his 
western campaign, that his obedience would have been more 
faithful and precise if he had been even more intemperate. 

In Scotland, James was in some degree aided in his pro¬ 
jects by the state of the law as it existed in that country, 
since the Scottish Act of Supremacy gave him a more 
absolute power in ecclesiastical affairs than he enjoyed in 
his other kingdoms. And it was also in his favour that 
some of the ablest and most influential of the Scotch 
leaders had mixed themselves up in Monmouth’s rebellion, 
and had thus greatly discredited any resistance they might 
hereafter make to his authority; the most powerful of all 
the nobles, the Earl of Argyll, having even ventured to 
rise in arms against the Government, and having expiated 
his treason on the scaffold. 

On the other hand, those from whom he could expect 
any zealous co-operation in his exertions on behalf of his 


Affairs of Scotland . 


43 


religion were very small in number, since, from the time of 
Knox, all exercise of the Romish religion had been pro¬ 
hibited by statutes of such ferocious intolerance that few 
cared to expose themselves to their penalties. He had, 
indeed, succeeded, on his accession to the throne, in 
inducing some of the nobles to profess his faith. The Earl 
of Perth, the Chancellor, with his brother, Lord Melfort, 
the Secretary of State, were eager to supplant the Duke 
of Queensberry, the head of the ancient house of Douglas, 
in his office of Lord Treasurer; and knowing well that 
no road to the King’s favour was equally sure, declared 
themselves convinced of the truth of the Popish doctrines 
by some papers which Charles II. had drawn up on 
the subject of the controversy between the Church of 
England and the Romanists; and which, since his death, 
James had published with great exultation, because in them 
his brother had declared his belief in the superior validity 
of the arguments of the Roman Catholic champions. 

Though the personal characters of the two brothers were 
far from standing high in general estimation, and though 
their abilities were utterly contemptible, their conversion was 
a sufficient title to James’s entire confidence. Queensberry 
was dismissed from one office after another, and edict after 
edict was issued, showing the Roman Catholics all the favour 
which the King could show them, without the aid of the 
Estates of the kingdom. One enjoined the Protestant clergy 
to forbear from preaching against Popery; another granted 
Roman Catholic officials a dispensation from taking the legal 
tests. Restrictions were imposed on the press, and book¬ 
sellers were forbidden to publish any book without the license 
of the Chancellor. The citizens of Edinburgh, a population 
probably more hostile to anything that bore the semblance 


44 


The English Revolution. 


of Popery than any other in Europe, became violently 
discontented, and presently, when they learnt that Lord 
Perth had opened a Roman Catholic chapel in his house, 
they broke out in a formidable riot, forced their way into 
the chapel, and defaced all the ornaments, not sparing 
Lady Perth herself from insult Quiet was not restored till 
the troops were called out, and more than one person was 
killed by their fire. Some of the ringleaders were appre¬ 
hended, and James, with unkingly cruelty, sent down orders 
to put the prisoners to the torture. 

This illegal severity was no doubt meant to deter men 
from further opposition to his will, and James proceeded 
with great energy in his object of extorting from the Privy 
Council and the Estates their co-operation in the enactment 
of laws which his own authority was insufficient to pass. 
His proposals argued a strange ignorance of the feelings 
and of all the previous history of the nation, for the great 
bulk of the people was inflexibly attached to the Presby¬ 
terian form of worship, the exercise of which had lately 
been prohibited by enactments equally stringent and bar¬ 
barous with those which had been framed against Popery. 
To hear the mass three times, and to attend a Presbyterian 
conventicle were equally made capital offences; but James 
now desired to repeal the statutes which imposed penalties 
on the Papists, while leaving untouched those which 
denounced the gallows against Presbyterians. 

The Privy Council was willing to do more than might 
have been expected; the members offered to agree to relax 
the laws against both sects, but coupled their consent with a 
demand that the King should bind himself by a solemn 
promise to protect the Protestant religion. James replied 
that the Protestant religion was false, and that he would not 


Conduct of the Scottish Estates. 


45 


engage to protect it, and in high indignation turned to the 
Estates to obtain from them the aid which the Council 
refused him. 

In April, 1686, the Estates were opened with a letter from 
the King, in which he required them to repeal the laws 
against the Roman Catholics, offering, as inducements to 
win their compliance, to open to their commerce a free trade 
with England, and to pardon some political offenders, but 
abstaining from holding out the slightest hope of similar 
indulgence to the Presbyterians. The leaders of the 
debates in the Estates proved more impracticable than the 
Privy Councillors. Their language, as reported by Barillon, 
was that “ they must, by refusing to sell their God, wipe off 
the reproach of having once sold their King;” and even the 
Lords of Articles, as a body of Commissioners was called, 
whose task it was to draw the Bills which were to be laid 
before the Estates for discussion, though virtually nominated 
by the Crown, refused to put into form the proposals which 
he desired, declaring that they were contrary to the funda¬ 
mental laws of Scotland. In high wrath, James tried in¬ 
timidation ; he tried punishment Some of those who had 
taken the lead in the discussions he dismissed from their 
offices; others he deprived of pensions; but his violence only 
sharpened the spirit of resistance, and after a session of a 
few weeks, he adjourned the Estates, as he had already 
adjourned the English Parliament; and, telling Barillon that 
“by the authority which the law gave him he could establish 
in Scotland that liberty in favour of the Catholics which 
the Parliament refused to grant,” he proceeded to act in the 
spirit of that announcement. 

He deprived Bishops of their sees; he forbade the judges 
to put in execution any of the laws against Papists; he 


46 The English Revolution. 

prohibited all municipal elections, and took upon himself to 
fill up all the magistracies and different offices in every 
borough town in the kingdom. At the beginning of the 
next year, he even issued a proclamation which abolished 
nearly all the restrictions that had hitherto been imposed 
on the Roman Catholics, and which, while it allowed 
them to build chapels, still refused equal liberty to the 
Presbyterians; and he especially announced a resolution to 
enforce the law which inflicted death as the punishment for 
the offence of attending a Presbyterian conventicle in the 
open air. 

But, however monstrous these acts might be, and however 
great the degree in which, in both the sister kingdoms, they 
alienated men’s minds from the Crown, and prepared them 
for insurrection, it was in England that James himself felt 
that the decisive blows must be. struck; and it was by the 
reception which his measures might meet in England that 
the eventual results of his policy must be determined. If, 
either by force or by address, he could carry his point in 
the country which was the seat of government, he was con¬ 
vinced that he need not apprehend any permanent resist¬ 
ance in the other parts of the kingdom. He resolved, first, 
to try address, or, in other words, to endeavour to cover his 
proceedings with a form of law, by means of the exercise 
of that power of dispensing with penal statutes, for which 
one or two acts of former sovereigns, and especially of his 
own father, seemed to afford precedents. The limits of this 
power had never been defined by the law; but it was 
notorious that every King had claimed and exercised, as a 
part of his royal prerogative, the right of pardoning persons 
convicted of crimes, or of inflicting punishments slighter 
than those to which the criminal had been sentenced by 


Trial of Sir Edward Hales. 


47 


the judge. And James now determined to employ this 
expedient to nullify all the statutes which imposed disabili¬ 
ties or penalties on Roman Catholics. It was not easy to 
find a mode of doing so; for judge after judge warned the 
King that, if his power to grant such dispensations as he 
proposed to grant were contested in a court of law, they 
should be unable to give a decision in his favour, while both 
the Attorney-General and the Solicitor-General positively 
refused to draw the warrants which they were ordered to 
prepare for conferring offices and ecclesiastical benefices on 
Roman Catholics; the Attorney-General, a barrister named 
Sawyer, of high reputation for professional ability, telling the 
King that such an act would be not merely a violation of a 
single statute, but an abrogation of the whole statute law as 
it had existed from the time of Elizabeth. 

Nearly all who thus declared their disapproval were 
turned out of office, and replaced by men of inferior ability, 
but of more pliant and accommodating or more timorous 
disposition. And when James had thus got advocates to 
his mind and packed the bench of judges, he, without delay, 
invoked the aid of the machinery of the law for the ac¬ 
complishment of his grand design. Sir Edward Hales, who 
had recently become a Roman Catholic, had been rewarded 
with the colonelcy of a regiment, and was performing the 
military duties of his rank without having taken the test 
prescribed by the Act passed in the late reign. A collusive 
information was laid against him, and, when he had pleaded 
that his Majesty had granted him a dispensation authorizing 
him to hold his commission without complying with the pro¬ 
visions of the Test Act, the judges pronounced his plea 
good, and directed his acquittal, resting their decision on 
grounds which were more formidable than the decision itself, 


48 


The English Revolution. 


that the laws of England were the King’s laws, and that, 
consequently, it was an inseparable part of his prerogative 
to dispense with penal laws in particular cases, for reasons of 
which he was the sole judge. 

The whole affair was treated in Court as if it were abso¬ 
lutely devoid of importance; even the counsel for the pro¬ 
secution argued their case as if they desired to be defeated. 1 
But it was not regarded as trivial by the nation at large, 
through which it spread a general indignation and alarm ; 
men felt that every principle of Constitutional government 
was undermined by the judges’ decision, and the King 
speedily showed that he meant to carry the rule thus 
laid down by them into every department of the State. 
Roman Catholics were sworn in as members of the 
Privy Council. By an inconceivable mockery not only of 
law but of religion, livings in the Church of England were 
conferred on Popish priests; and Obadiah Walker, the master 
of the most ancient college in Oxford, was induced to pro¬ 
fess himself a Roman Catholic; and retaining his headship, 
established an oratory in the College, introduced a Jesuit as 
chaplain, and celebrated mass, to the disgust of the students, 
whom he tried to coerce into following his example, but 
who turned him and his new worship into ridicule, regaling 
his ears, as he crossed the quadrangle, with doggrel rhyme, 

“ Old Obadiah 
Sings Ave Maria.” 

Another Papist, Dr. Massey, was made Dean of Christ¬ 
church, though that office added to the presidency over 

1 “After the cause had been argued with a most indecent coldness 

by those who were made use of on design to expose and betray it.”_ 

Burnet, p. 669. But Hallam, vol. Ill, p. 85, says, “This hardly appears 
by Northey's argument”; Northey being the leading counsel for the 
prosecution. 


The Court of High Commission. 49 

the chief college in the University the highest post under 
the Bishop in the cathedral chapter ; and he received at the 
same time a secret dispensation from the Act of Uniformity 
and from all ecclesiastical statutes which had any reference 
to his office, couched in terms so ample as evidently to be 
intended for a precedent. Bishoprics were conferred on men 
of neither learning, nor virtue, nor any other qualification 
but an understood willingness to renounce their Protestant 
profession. And the King long kept the Archbishopric 
of York vacant, with the intention of raising the Jesuit 
Petre to that high dignity as soon as he could obtain 
a dispensation from the Pope, without which no Jesuit 
could accept a mitre; but which Innocent marked his 
disapproval of the King’s ardent policy by steadily re¬ 
fusing. 

But there were many things which, as the King imagined, 
. he could do without any assistance from Rome, and one of 
which seemed capable of such wide application as to 
include every part of his principal design. In April, 1686, 
he created a Court of High Commission, with a complete 
visitatorial and governing power over the whole Church of 
England. A court with the same name had existed in his 
father’s time, and, having been converted by Laud into an 
engine of almost universal oppression, had been abolished 
by the Long Parliament; while, so bitter had been the re¬ 
collection which it had left behind it, that the Parliament 
of Charles II., which restored many others of the Eccle¬ 
siastical Courts, refused to revive that tribunal; and even 
inserted expressions in the Bill for the re-establisliment of 
the rest, which were designed to operate as a distinct bar to 
the renewal of its powers in any form. 1 If it was not con- 

1 "They had taken marked precautions in passing an Act for the 

E 


50 


The English Revolution . 


trary to any express statute, it was clearly inconsistent with 
every principle of the Constitution for the King to create 
anew, by his single authority, a Court which in the very last 
reign, the whole Parliament, King, Lords, and Commons, 
had agreed in condemning. 

And if the re-establishment of this court was in itself a 
grievance, the use for which it was instantly employed ren¬ 
dered it still more odious ; for the first person cited before 
it was Compton, Bishop of London. Even before he had 
issued the proclamation creating the tribunal, James had 
taken upon himself to exert some of its powers, and had 
issued directions to all the Protestant clergy to abstain 
from controversial sermons. Roman Catholic preachers 
were left at liberty to advocate their doctrines; but the 
preachers of the Church of England were prohibited from 
replying to them. Many manfully disregarded so illegal 
and unjust an edict, and among them, Dr. Sharpe, one of. 
the royal chaplains, and rector of a London parish. At 
the special request of one of his parishioners, he preached 
an eloquent refutation of some of the chief doctrines of 
Popery, and the King instantly sent orders to Compton to 
suspend him. Compton’s lawyers warned him that he could 
not legally obey the mandate without giving Sharpe an 
opportunity of being heard in his own defence. The 
Bishop reported their opinion to the King, requesting to 
be excused from complying with a command which was 
illegal, and James instantly caused his new Court of High 
Commission to summon him before it to answer for his 
disobedience. 

“ restoration of ecclesiastical jurisdiction that it should not be construed 
“to restore the High Commission Court.”— Hallam, vol. II., c. XI., 
p. 451. Ed. 1832. Cf. Burnet, p. 675. 


The Case of Bishop Compton. 51 

Jefferies, now Lord Chancellor, was chief of the Commis¬ 
sion; a man, whose servility and barbarity, as shown on the 
trials of Monmouth’s adherents, had made him infamous 
in the eyes of every man of virtue and honour throughout 
Europe. The other members were the Earl of Rochester, 
the Earl of Sunderland, Herbert, who had been made Chief 
Justice for the express purpose of giving judgment for the 
Crown in Hales’s case; and three prelates, Archbishop San- 
croft, who declined attending; Crewe, Bishop of Durham, 
who seemed proud of his courtier-like sycophancy; and 
Sprat, Bishop of Rochester, who was bomid to the King by 
his hope of obtaining the Archbishopric of York, if Inno¬ 
cent should still prove obstinate on the question of a dis¬ 
pensation for Petre. Jefferies now browbeat the Bishop 
with such insolence that even his colleagues were ashamed 
of his conduct. But, with all his violence, he was unable 
at first to procure the sentence he desired. So irrefragable 
were the arguments with which Compton’s counsel defended 
him, that Rochester, Herbert, and Bishop Sprat declared 
their opinions in his favour. James was furious. It was to 
no purpose that his eldest daughter, the Princess Mary, 
wrote to him from Holland in favour of her old tutor. The 
clearer the Bishop’s case, the more influential his friends, 
the more resolute was James to make an example of him. 
Though the Earl of Rochester was his own brother-in-law, 
he threatened to deprive him of his post if he did not retract 
his sentence, and condemn the Bishop; and the Earl, with 
a baseness as unprecedented as it was unprofitable, for, in 
spite of it, James did dismiss him a few months afterwards, 
complied with the tyrannical order. His voice gave the 
Bishop’s enemies a majority; and they pronounced a 
sentence by which Compton was suspended from all 

e 2 


52 The English Revolution. 

spiritual functions. They were unable to touch his emolu¬ 
ments, since such a step would have enabled him to appeal 
to the Civil Courts for protection; in which case the Chief 
Justice himself warned the King that he must inevitably 
succeed. 

It was the only instance in which James condescended to 
take warning. He now openly encouraged Friars of all 
orders, Benedictines, Franciscans, Carmelites, and, above 
all, Jesuits, though, from the time of the Gunpowder Plot, 
special statutes of unusual severity had been enacted against 
that order, to establish chapels, convents, and schools in the 
heart of London; while, to check any disposition of the 
citizens to resist, he assembled a fresh army, consisting of 
above 13,000 men, cavalry and infantry, with a heavy train 
of artillery; and encamped it on Hounslow Heath, within 
12 miles of the capital. But the feeling which he thus 
hoped to repress on the part of the citizens, being, in truth, 
the feeling of nearly every Englishman worthy of the name, 
was largely shared by the soldiers. To use a modern expres¬ 
sion, the two bodies began to fraternize together, and the 
unarmed population of the city soon learnt that, if things 
went further, they might reckon on the sympathy, if not on 
the active co-operation of the soldiers. And as demonstra¬ 
tion of the King’s inflexible obstinacy followed demonstra¬ 
tion, it became daily more and more probable that the 
discontent which pervaded the kingdom would eventually 
kindle into open resistance. 

Before the end of the year, in spite of all his servility in 
the Court of High Commission, the Earl of Rochester was 
dismissed from his office because he refused to renounce his 
'-religion; his brother, the Earl of Clarendon, was recalled from 
Ireland, that Tyrconnel might unite the supreme civil with 


Position of the Prince of Orange. 53 

the supreme military authority; and their disgrace produced 
the deeper impression, since it made it evident that even 
the bonds arising from the closest family ties would be made 
by James to give way to the one absorbing motive of re¬ 
establishing the Papal religion and the Papal authority in the 
kingdom. 

So general and so deep did the indignation and the 
alarm become, that, by the beginning of 1687, the minds 
of many began to turn towards William Prince of Orange, 
who, as a grandson of Charles I., was himself a Prince of the 
blood royal of England. William had married the King’s 
eldest daughter, the presumptive heiress to the throne; he 
was known as a Prince of great statesmanlike capacity, and 
of energetic courage and resolution; and it was reasonable 
to think that the probability that these kingdoms might 
eventually become the inheritance of his wife might incline 
him to take a lively interest in their affairs. It might even 
be construed as already giving him some right to interfere 
actively in any case of conspicuous misgovernment, while 
his principles and opinions, so far as they were known, were 
in complete harmony with those of the great majority of 
the nation. As Stadtholder of a republic he could not fail 
to disapprove of the establishment or exercise of despotic 
authority; while it was notorious that he was firmly attached 
to Protestantism, and was averse to all persecution for 
religious differences. Every circumstance therefore com¬ 
bined to point him out to those who were discontented with 
the Government as their most suitable ally. And more 
than one urgent application for his advice or assistance 
reached the Hague in the first months of the year; some of 
those who sought it even entreating him at once to cross 
over to England with an army, and to endeavour by the 


54 The English Revolution. 

display of force to bring back James to more constitutional 
courses. 

But William wisely decided that the pear was not yet ripe,, 
though he began to open communications with some of the 
leading nobles and statesmen of both parties; watching the 
train of events, and giving them as much encouragement in 
their resolution to uphold the Protestant constitution as 
could be afforded by their assurance of his sympathy with 
their objects, and his probable willingness to afford them 
more material aid should such become indispensable. 

He even sent over to England a confidential agent of 
great sagacity, named Dykvelt, whose ostensible duties 
were those of envoy from the States of Holland to the 
British Government, but the real object of whose mission 
was to gather for the Prince information as to the state 
of public feeling in England, on which he could place 
greater reliance than on the representations of members 
of either party, however zealous, honest, or able. Being a 
man of great diplomatic address, Dykvelt held frequent 
intercourse with men of influence of all parties and all sects, 
whether in or out of Parliament: many even of the Roman 
Catholics not scrupling to enter into communication with 
him; and he gradually learnt that William’s informants had 
not exaggerated either the extent or the degree of the 
prevailing discontent; that even those whose especial 
champion and protector James seemed to be, disapproved 
of his mode of showing them favour, and that the dissatis¬ 
faction was increasing. 




V 


55 


CHAPTER IV. 


James tries to gain the Prince of Orange’s consent to a general toleration 
—He issues a Declaration of Indulgence—The Nonconformists declare 
against the dispensing power—The correspondence between Stewart 
an>l Fagel—James dissolves the Parliament—James executes some 
soldiers for desertion—He attacks the University of Cambridge— 
Farmer is nominated President of Magdalen College, O: ford—James 
visits Oxford—The fellows of Magdalen are expelled—James pro¬ 
poses to bequeath Ireland to Louis—Expectation of an heir to the 
Throne—A Board of regulators is appointed—James issues a second 
Declaration of Indulgence—Six bishops present a petition to the 
King. 

In the spring of 1687, it seemed as if James had changed 
his tactics; and, having failed to carry his point by threats 
and prosecutions, had resolved once more to try what address 
might effect for him. He knew that the Protestants of the 
Church of England regarded the Protestant Nonconformists 
with an antipathy little less determined than that which they 
felt towards the Roman Catholics, and which seemed the 
more ineradicable since it was combined with something of 
disdain. He might well believe that the Nonconformists 
repaid their dislike with interest; but the zeal which, since 
his accession, he had shown for elevating his own Church 
above them both, had had some effect in uniting them. He 
now conceived that, by a comparatively slight change of 
policy, he might be able to divide them. When he had 
first endeavoured to procure the assent of Parliament to 


56 


The English Revolution. 


a relaxation of the laws against the Roman Catholics, 
he had treated with scorn the idea that the Protestant 
Dissenters had any claim to a similar indulgence; and 
many, probably the majority, of the Churchmen were 
equally disinclined to see the laws relaxed in favour of 
either body. 

He now, therefore, adopted the idea that, if he granted 
relief to both, such an act would secure the gratitude of 
the Protestant Nonconformists, and widen the breach 
between them and the Church of England. He even 
sent the Marquis Albeville over to Holland to endeavour 
to obtain the sanction of the Prince of Orange to 
his design; and also wrote to the Prince with his own 
nand on the subject. But William looked at the interests 
of Protestantism in general rather than at those of any one 
sect in particular; and, though he undoubtedly inclined to 
the doctrines of the Nonconformists rather than to those of 
the Church of England, he nevertheless had so deep a con¬ 
viction that the Test Act was the surest bulwark against 
Popery, that he absolutely refused to concur in the King’s 
project. 1 But opposition never made James flinch; and 
though the precedent of his brother’s reign, when Charles 
had been compelled to revoke the Declaration of Indulgence 
which he had issued, could not fail to be fresh in his recol¬ 
lection, he now took upon himself to issue a somewhat simi¬ 
lar Declaration; annulling by his own authority the whole 

i He writes to the King, June 17, 1687, that he had already assured 
him “qu’il n’y avait personne au monde qui pouvait avoir plus d’aversion 
‘ ‘ que j’avais pour toute sorte de persecution au fait de religion, et qu’assure- 
“ ment je ne voudrais de ma vie y donner les mains; mais aussi je ne 
“ pourrais jamais me resoudre a faire quelque chose contraire au bien et a 
“ l’interet dela religion que je'professe ; etqu’ainsijenepuisconcourirence 
“ que votre Majeste desire de moi.”— Dalrymple, vol. III. Pt. 2, p. 184. 


Feelings of the Nonconformists. 5 7 

series of statutes, whether imposing tests or penalties, which 
a succession of Parliaments had enacted for the security of 
Protestantism. 

He could not pretend to fancy that the present Par¬ 
liament was more disposed to acquiesce in such an 
encroachment on its powers than its predecessor; for he 
had personally canvassed many leading members of both 
Houses, and, if there had been the slightest hope of obtain¬ 
ing a favourable vote, he would have allowed the Houses to 
meet again. But the more the Churchmen opposed it, the 
greater he expected would be the gratitude of the Noncon¬ 
formists. To his surprise, he found that they were as little 
inclined to believe in his friendship for themselves, or in the 
sincerity of his denunciations of religious intolerance, as 
ever. They remembered the peculiar bitterness with which 
he had persecuted them both in England and Scotland ; 
and they distrusted his present parade of moderation. 
Even in this very Declaration of Indulgence, he avowed 
his wish to bring back the whole nation to Popery; and 
among the professors of Popery he lost no opportunity of 
showing that his personal preference, if it might not be 
said his exclusive favour, was reserved for the Jesuits, the 
most insincere, the most intolerant, and the most un¬ 
scrupulous of all the Romish brotherhoods. 

Accordingly, the great majority of the Nonconformists 
believed the Indulgence to be but a snare, a cloak to cover 
his schemes for the advancement of his own religion, which 
he would himself discard as soon as he had established the 
Papists in security and ascendancy. Greatly as they valued 
the permission to build meeting-houses, and to assemble 
openly in them in broad daylight, their hatred and dread 
of Popery overpowered even that feeling; and finally, at a 


58 


The English Revolution. 


meeting of the leading Nonconformist ministers, where the 
whole transaction was elaborately discussed, the majority 
passed a formal resolution in condemnation of the exercise 
of the dispensing power. 

Nor were the Roman Catholics themselves, who did not 
belong to the Jesuit order, pleased at what had been done. 
They were well aware of its illegality. They could have little 
doubt that, at the King’s death, when, to all appearance, 
the Princess of Orange must succeed to the throne, the In¬ 
dulgence would be cancelled. They learned from Dykvelt 
that the Prince himself, in that event, though he would not 
consent to their admission to offices of State, would not be 
averse to their obtaining a fair degree of liberty for their 
exercise of the rites of their religion, and they preferred the 
prospect of such a toleration to be permanently secured by 
Parliamentary enactment, to a temporary ascendancy depen¬ 
dent on the life of one' elderly man. It is remarkable that 
among the letters which, on his return to Holland, Dvkvelt 
conveyed to the Prince, was one from Colonel Bellasis, 
the brother of the Roman Catholic peer to w'hom, on 
Rochester’s disgrace, James had given the white staff of 
the Lord Treasurer, and in it the colonel professes as 
absolute a devotion to the Prince and Princess, which he 
puts upon the fact of their being members of the royal 
family, as was avowed by the most zealous Protestant. 

Indeed, the Roman Catholics were not long left without 
something more formal to trust to than the diplomatic 
language of Dykvelt, necessarily vague, however far it might 
be authorized, or however unlikely to be disavowed. James 
had been highly displeased at the Prince’s refusal to express 
any approval of his Declaration of Indulgence; and was dis¬ 
posed to catch at any expedient which might bring William 


Letter of Pagel to Stewart . 59 

to a more compliant temper. Fagel, the Grand Pensionary 
of the States, stood high in the Prince’s confidence ; and a 
Scotchman named Stewart, who had for some years resided 
in Holland, and had become intimate with the Grand 
Pensionary, held out a hope to the King that he might 
induce that statesman to work on the Prince and Princess. 
James gladly sanctioned his writing Fagel an elaborate 
letter, full of arguments and entreaties, to persuade them to 
support him in the policy which he had adopted; and Fagel 
replied in another, which was evidently intended as a mani¬ 
festo of their views on the state of affairs in England. It 
was most carefully and skilfully worded so as to conciliate 
all sects by its denunciation of the idea of punishing any 
subject whatever for his religious opinions; nor, though it 
proceeded to draw a distinction between penalties and dis¬ 
abilities or exclusion from office, which had no validity or 
foundation in common sense, did that part of it alienate 
even those who were likely to be affected by it, since the 
spirit of the age fully recognized the existence of such a 
difference. 

The letter was translated into English and more than 
one Continental language, and was widely' circulated; 
50,000 copies are said to have been sold in England alone, 
and it had the unusual effect of pleasing all religious 
parties except the Jesuits, who surrounded and governed 
James himself; all the more moderate Roman Catholics 
being abundantly satisfied by the assurance that, whenever, 
or as far as ever William should have an influence in the 
Government, they would be allowed the free exercise of 
their religion, and every other indulgence which did not 
include official or political power. 

Yet so strange was James’s blindness, that every fresh 


6o 


The English Revolution. 


demonstration of the strength and universality of the feeling 
which animated his subjects on the question of Popery only 
seemed to make him more resolute to defy it. On one 
occasion he held a Court for the express purpose of 
receiving the Pope’s Nuncio with unusual state, organizing 
a magnificent procession for his escort, and dismissing from 
their employments some of the first nobles in the State, who, 
pleading their fear of breaking the law of the land, refused 
to bear a part in it. He would show them, he said, that 
he was above the law. At another time he publicly 
prostrated himself before the Nuncio, and on his knees 
besought his blessing. And finally, in July, 1687, he 
dissolved the Parliament, which hitherto had only been 
prorogued from time to time; thus, as the dissolution was 
not followed by any announcement of an intention to call 
another, indicating not obscurely, as was generally thought, 
a determination for the future to dispense with Parliaments 
altogether. 

And this belief grew the stronger when it was found that 
the King was preparing for a fresh violation of the law, in a 
matter in which religion was in no degree concerned; but 
which showed a resolution to render himself absolutely 
despotic, to make himself really above the law, as he 
had boasted to the Duke of Somerset. As yet there was 
no Mutiny Act; indeed, it was only very lately that there 
had been anything like a standing army. But James still 
clung to the idea of overawing London by the troops 
encamped at Hounslow; and, to do this, it was indis¬ 
pensable that he should first be able to overawe the 
troops themselves. The nearness of the camp to London 
tempted many to desert, and the common law made no 
difference between a soldier who quitted his standard 


Execution of Soldiers . 


6l 


and any other hired servant who left his employment with¬ 
out notice. James resolved to treat desertion as a capital 
crime, and to procure the condemnation of deserters by 
the ordinary tribunals. Several of the judges, and even 
Chief Justice Herbert, who had sufficiently shown his 
willingness to strain the law to the utmost to do the King 
a pleasure, refused to be made tools of for such a purpose. 
They were dismissed; lawyers of the lowest professional 
reputation and worst private character, one of whom at 
least was a Roman Catholic, were raised to the bench; and 
before this packed and profligate Court several soldiers 
were prosecuted for desertion, convicted, condemned, and 
hung in front of their regiments. 

At the same time the King made a fresh attack upon the 
Universities; in their case, no longer scrupling, as he had 
scrupled in the case of the Bishop of London, to trample on 
the law which protected every individual in the enjoyment 
of his freehold. At Cambridge, no preferment was as yet 
vacant, so there he was compelled for a time to content him¬ 
self with ordering the Senate to confer degrees, to which no 
one could be admitted without taking the oath of supremacy, 
on Roman Catholics who were certain to refuse it; and, 
when his mandate was disobeyed, he summoned the Vice- 
Chancellor of the University before his High Commission 
Court, and deprived him of his office. 1 But at Oxford, 
circumstances were more favourable to his designs. There, 
in March, 1687, the President of Magdalen College, re¬ 
puted to be the richest foundation in the two Universities, 

9 

1 Macaulay, vol. II., p. 280, says he was also deprived of his mastership, 
but Burnet says expressly that he was not: “ All that was thought fit to be 
“ done against him was to turn'him out of his office. That was but an 
" annual office, and of no profit.”—p. 698. 


62 


The English Revolution. 


died, and James at once sent down an order to the Fellows 
to elect Antony Farmer in his stead, a man of the most 
infamous character, and one who had not even the formal 
but indispensable qualification of having ever been a Fellow. 
But his vices and his want of legal qualification, were 
alike effaced in the eyes of the King by his recent con¬ 
version to Popery. 

The Fellows could not obey the royal mandate to 
elect such a man without a flagrant violation of their 
oaths ; and, though some proposed to postpone the elec¬ 
tion, the majority more manfully resolved to obey their 
statutes, and, having elected one of the most eminent 
members of their body, J ohn Hough, at once installed him 
in his post. James was furious. He summoned the Fellows 
before the High Commission Court, when Jefferies, after 
his wont, heaped insult as well as threats upon them; but 
they brought such evidence of the infamy of Farmer’s 
character, that even that Court had not the boldness to 
sustain his nomination. James issued a new mandate, v 
enjoining them to elect a clergyman named Parker, whom 
he had recently created Bishop of Oxford, and who was 
known to be so inclined to Popery, or rather, so indifferent 
to all religion, that he would willingly have professed himself 
a Papist, had he been unmarried. But Parker’s election was 
impossible, because the Presidency was no longer vacant. 
Hough had been legally inducted, and could not legally be 
deprived. But the King was resolved to carry his point in 
spite of all obstacles. In September he came himself to 
Oxford, summoned the Fellows before him, threatened them, 
reviled them, employed agents to bribe or cajole them; and 
when all these methods failed, he sent down a Special Com¬ 
mission, with Wright, whom he had made Chief Justice in 


James at Oxford . 


63 


the place of Herbert, at its head, to hold a visitation of the 
college. The Commissioners were supported by a body of 
cavalry, and after giving Hough and the fellows a brief 
hearing, in which again threats and personal insult were 
not spared, they deposed Hough from his Presidency, broke 
open the doors of his house with iron bars, and gave Parker 
admission. 

A few weeks afterwards, the whole body of Fellows 
and scholars was expelled; the High Commission Court, 
by a decree as illegal as any that they had ever issued, 
declared them for ever incapable of receiving any Church 
preferment; and, when, a few weeks later, Bishop Parker 
died, he was replaced by a Roman Catholic prelate, the 
vacant Fellowships were given to a number of friars, and 
the great college was turned into a Papist seminary. 
And, if these acts were hard to be borne, the language used 
by those who were known to be in the King’s confidence 
aggravated the rising discontent; for, when it was urged 
that such open attacks on the Church of England were in¬ 
consistent with the King’s promises, Albeville replied that 
kings had a right to forget their promises, and that the 
Church of England itself should have no existence at all in 
two years’ time. 

James was indeed plotting against something more than 
the Church. He was meditating a blow at the integrity of 
the Empire itself. Some of his advisers had proposed to 
him to disinherit his eldest daughter, the Princess of Orange, 
and to bequeath the Crown to the younger, Princess Anne, 
if she would change her religion; or, if she should prove 
unmanageable, to leave the appointment of his successor 
to Louis XIV., in case that sovereign should survive him. 
It is doubtful how far he had listened to such counsels, 


64 


The English Revolution. 


though the French Ambassador thought his adoption of some 
plan to secure a Roman Catholic successor by no means 
improbable; but it is quite certain that he was preparing to 
undo the recent settlement of the forfeited lands of Ireland 
on Protestants, and, after re-establishing the old Irish in 
their former possessions, to detach the island altogether from 
England after his own death, and place it under the pro¬ 
tection of the King of France, when all such ideas were 
suddenly interrupted by the Queen’s announcement that she 
was again likely to become a mother. 

Queen Mary had had four children, a son and three 
daughters, who had all died in their infancy; but as five 
years had elapsed since the birth of the last, people had, 
not very reasonably, concluded that all prospect of her 
ever giving an heir to the throne had gone by; and now 
the declaration that there was ground for such a hope 
was received with general incredulity. The Jesuits were 
known to be fertile in expedients, and unscrupulous; nor 
could any one acquainted with the past history of the 
order think it inconsistent with their avowed principles to 
treat any fraud as pardonable that might assist in the bringing 
back of such a kingdom as that of Britain under the Pope’s 
authority. The exulting language held by the more zealous 
Roman Catholics was calculated to strengthen the suspicion. 
They spoke of the Queen’s pregnancy as the result of the 
miraculous interposition of the Virgin. They predicted with 
absolute certainty that the expected infant would prove a son 
(obviously because the birth of a daughter would not have 
affected the Princess Mary’s right of succession), and the 
case was compared to the promise of Isaac to Sarah, and of 
Samuel to Hannah, till they gave the multitude no slight 
grounds for a belief that there was a design to foist a sup- 


Pregnancy of the Queen. 


65 


posititious child on the nation as its future King; that, in all 
probability, the whole story of an expected birth was false, 
but that if it should be true, and if the infant should prove 
a daughter, an exchange would be contrived. 

James’s elation at the hope thus held out to him was not, 
however, without alloy. The birth of a son would render 
it indispensable for him to summon a new Parliament, 
because the appointment of a Regent would become 
instantly necessary, and that could only be made by the 
formal act of the whole Legislature. Yet such a House 
of Commons as the people was likely to -elect in the 
existing state of feeling was sure to place the Regency in 
Protestant hands, probably in those of the Prince of 
Orange. It was equally certain that the House of Lords 
would show the same disposition. With them, however, the 
King could deal by his own authority. It was indisputable 
not that he had an unlimited right to create peers, but it was 
equally easy to pack a House of Commons. A large pro- 
‘ portion of the representatives were returned by municipal 
corporations, the members of which were all Churchmen, 
and notoriously hostile to all the recent measures of the 
Court. In the county elections, the magistrates and officers 
of militia had great influence, and they were well known to 
be animated, for the most part, by similar feelings. 

Before a compliant House of Commons could be 
reckoned on, it was necessary to remodel corporations, 
bench of justices, and militia; and James made public 
proclamation of his intention in the Gazette, hoping pro¬ 
bably that the openness and distinctness of the announce¬ 
ment might in some instances have the effect of intimi¬ 
dating resistance. No one was to be retained in any 
post or office who would not bind himself to support the 

* F 



66 The English Revolution. 

King’s policy. A Board of Regulators, as it was called, 
was appointed, of whom, with the exception of the infamous 
Lord Chancellor, every one was a Papist, to remodel the 
corporations. The Lords-Lieutenant were ordered to 
address a set of queries to all the civil or military officers 
of the different counties, inquiring whether, if returned to 
Parliament, they would support the policy of the Court for 
the removal of all religious disabilities, or whether they 
would support candidates pledged to such a course. 1 Nor 
was this all. They were also commanded to report “ what 
“ Catholics and what Dissenters were fit to be added either 
“ to thedist of the Deputy-Lieutenants or to the Commission 
“ of the Peace,” though it was notorious that, till the Test 
Act should be repealed, not one such person could legally 
receive either commission. 

But these inquisitorial devices of tyranny completely and 
equally failed. The greater part of the Lords-Lieutenant 
refused to carry out the King’s order; and, when they were 
in consequence dismissed, and those by whom they were 
replaced, being mostly Roman Catholics, obeyed and circu¬ 
lated the questions which they had been enjoined to ask, 
they found the spirit of disapproval of the King’s policy 
almost universal. The Protestants declared that they would 
do their utmost to obey and gratify the King in everything 
which did not touch their religion, but they would go no 
further; while even the Roman Catholic gentry in the different 
counties were jealous of the Jesuits, and still more jealous 
of the French and Irish aid on which James was understood 
to place his chief reliance; and though many of them did 
consent to take the posts offered to them, and to be made 
sheriffs or magistrates, they declared that they would do 
i The questions are given in Dalrymple, III. 223. 


The Discontent increases. 67 

their duty as honest Englishmen, and steadily refused to 
make themselves parties to any plans for tampering with 
purity of election. 

Nor were the regulators of the corporations more suc¬ 
cessful. Towards the end of the last reign, when the dis¬ 
covery of the Mealtub and Rye House Plots had strengthened 
the Government, the ministers had taken proceedings 
against many of the most important corporations, and had 
found no difficulty in obtaining from the servile judges 
sentences that they had forfeited their charters. New 
charters had been granted, in which the old Whig magis¬ 
trates had been superseded by Tories, and which had also 
reserved to the Crown a power of dismissing all future muni¬ 
cipal officers at pleasure. The existing magistrates were 
now found as resolute as Whigs could have been in resisting 
every new indulgence to Popery. They were turned out and 
replaced by Nonconformists; but though the abolition of the 
penal laws, which was avowed to be James’s principal object, 
would have been as great a boon to them as to the Papists, 
they were as unwilling as before to purchase it at the price of 
sharing it with those whom they regarded as enemies, both 
of the Reformation and of the independence of the whole 
kingdom; and the regulators were forced to report to the 
King that, until the existing charters were annulled, there 
was no prospect of bringing the citizens of one single con¬ 
siderable towp in the whole kingdom to compliance with 
his Majesty’s views; while, to procure a fresh forfeiture of 
all the municipal charters in the kingdom, must evidently 
require more time than the present exigency would allow. 

The King resolved to try another expedient. Though 
the reception of his former Declaration of Indulgence had 
not been very encouraging, at the end of April, 1688, he 

F 2 


I 

L 


68 


The English Revolution. 


issued a second, in which the dispensation from all penal 
statutes on account of religious differences was accompanied 
by warnings, threats, and exhortations to obedience. He 
proclaimed to all his subjects that he was not a man to 
depart from his resolutions; he reminded them that he had 
already dismissed from their employments those who had 
refused to support and obey him; he threatened that he 
would constantly pursue the same system, and employ no 
one who was not unreserved in his submission to his will; 
and, finally, giving notice that a Parliament would certainly 
be summoned before the end of the year, he required all 
electors to be careful to return no representatives but those 
who should be agreeable to him, and who should have pro¬ 
mised to conform to his wishes. And, that no one might 
plead ignorance of his intentions, he, a few days afterwards, 
issued an Order in Council enjoining the officiating ministers 
of every parish in the kingdom to read the Declaration in 
the course of divine service on two successive Sundays. 

The whole body of the clergy was violently agitated by 
the receipt of such an order. To disobey their Sovereign 
was against the principles which they were in the habit of 
most zealously inculcating from their pulpits, and, even had 
it not been so, the restored Court of High Commission was 
a formidable engine of terror to restrain them from any 
inclination to disobedience. On the other hand, they could 
not doubt that the Declaration, which they were enjoined 
to read, was contrary to the law. They looked anxiously for 
a word of guidance from their Bishops, but the period be¬ 
tween the promulgation of the Order in Council and the first 
Sunday fixed for the reading of the Declaration was under 
a fortnight, and in those days communication between the 
different parts of the kingdom was slow and uncertain. The 


6 9 


The Declaration of Indulgence. 

Primate, Archbishop Sancroft, invited the Bishops of his 
province to meet him at Lambeth and take counsel on the 
emergency; but it was not till Friday, the 18th of May, that 
even a few of them were able to meet, and the King’s com¬ 
mand had named the 20th as the first of the Sundays on 
which the Declaration was to be read in the metropolitan 
parishes. 

Some of the most eminent of the London parochial clergy 
were also invited to aid their deliberations, and eventually 
it was decided that the Prelates who were present, they 
were but seven, should at once draw up a petition to the 
King, which, while it should express the firmest loyalty 
and fidelity to the throne, disown every notion of in¬ 
tolerance and persecution, and even avow a willingness to 
exert their legislative power as members of the House of 
Peers - to relax those laws which pressed too heavily on 
freedom of conscience, should at the same time affirm, 
though in the most respectful language, that the Parliament 
in the late King’s reign had pronounced the illegality of 
such a Declaration of Indulgence as had now been promul¬ 
gated, and that therefore they, as Bishops of the Church, 
could not conscientiously instruct their clergy to publish 
such an instrument in the house of God and during divine 
service. 1 The petition was drawn out, signed, and the 
same evening, Sancroft himself being too unwell to leave his 
palace, the six suffragans placed it in James’s hands at 
Whitehall. 

1 The Prelates who signed this petition were Sancroft, the Primate, and 
Bishops Lloyd, of St. Asaph; Turner, of Ely; Lake, of Chichester; Ken, 
of Bath and Wells; White, of Peterborough; and Trelawney, of Bristol. 
Compton, Bishop of London, attended the Conference, but, as he had 
been suspended by the High Commission Court, it was thought better that 
he should not add his signature. 


70 


The English Revolution. 


The King’s surprise was equal to his indignation. He 
had been aware of the Bishops’ meeting, but he had been 
led by Cartwright, whom he had lately made Bishop of 
Chester, and who was not without hopes of succeeding to 
York, in preference to Bishop Sprat, if he could only retain 
his favour, to believe that they were disposed to obey if 
they could only obtain from him some slight modification 
of the Declaration; and this respectful but uncompro¬ 
mising remonstrance came upon him like a thunderclap. 
He instantly began to reproach and threaten them in the 
fiercest terms; their memorial was “ a standard of rebel¬ 
lion;” they were “trumpeters of sedition.” He “would 
keep the paper and remember that they had signed it;” 
t( God had given him the dispensing power, and he would 
maintain it.” And he drove them from his presence with 
reproaches for their ingratitude after “ he had been such 
a friend to their Church,” and with reiterated commands 
to return at once to their dioceses, and there to take care 
that his orders were carried out. 

The result showed him that he had reckoned too con¬ 
fidently on the principle of passive obedience, which he 
rightly believed that many of the Episcopal clergy professed, 
but which even they would not weigh against their higher 
duty to the Protestant religion, which they regarded as at 
stake. On the 20th of May, not more than three or four 
clergymen in all the metropolitan parishes read the Declara¬ 
tion ; some went still further, and openly 1 preached against 
it. The next Sunday it was equally passed over; while the 

1 One curate, afterwards conspicuous from the celebrity of his sons John 
and Charles, Samuel Wesley, took for his text, “ Be it known unto thee, O 

King, that we will not serve the gods, nor worship the golden image 
“ which thou hast set up." 


The Clergy refuse to read it. 71 

Nonconformist ministers, to whom the King’s mandate had 
of course not been addressed, made the cause of their 
brethren of the Established Church their own; the most 
celebrated and influential of the whole body, Richard 
Baxter, even introducing the subject in a sermon, and pro¬ 
nouncing a warm panegyric on the petitioning Bishops from 
the pulpit. The King was full of anger and perplexity; he 
took counsel with his chief advisers, and the variety of the 
suggestions which he received showed how serious was the 
dilemma into which his contempt for all authority but his 
own had brought him. 

It was evidently impossible to proceed against the whole 
body of the clergy, while there was no doubt that on the 
next two Sundays the example of those in London would 
be followed in the rural parishes. But the Bishops, who by 
their petition might be said to have put themselves forward 
as the leaders of the movement, were few in number, and 
it might be easier for him to wreak his vengeance on them. 
Some advised him to cite them before the High Commission 
Court, which might suspend them or even deprive them of 
their Sees. But it was almost certain that the House of 
Lords would refuse to acknowledge the power of that Court 
to deprive a Bishop of his peerage; others, including the 
Lord Treasurer, the Roman Catholic Lord Bellasis, and 
even Lord Sunderland, who was preparing to give the last 
proof of his baseness by renouncing his religion and pro¬ 
fessing himself a Roman Catholic, advised moderation, 
recommending the King to issue a proclamation reproach¬ 
ing the Bishops with disloyalty and narrow-mindedness, but 
announcing that from recollection of the former dutifulness 
of the Church, and from respect for freedom of conscience, 
he would forbear to punish them. 


72 


The English Revolution. 


But the counsellor on whom James most relied was 
Jefferies. His voice was sure to be given for whatever 
was most violent and bitter, and he easily persuaded the 
King to regard the Bishops’ petition as a seditious libel, 
and to prosecute the Primate and his six suffragans before 
the Court of King’s Bench for having published it. He 
had no doubt that a conviction might be ensured, and that 
the judges, who now scarcely ever made even a pretence of 
independence, would pass heavy sentences of fine and 
imprisonment on them. 


CHAPTER V. 


The Bishops are committed to the Tower—Birth of the Prince of Wales— 
General disbelief in his genuineness—Trial of the Bishops—Argument 
of Somers—The Bishops are acquitted—An invitation is sent to the 
Prince of Orange—Cautious conduct of William—The great difficul¬ 
ties of an invasion—Condition and constitution of the Dutch Re¬ 
public— The state of affairs in other continental countries—James 
becomes more violent—Prepares to proceed against the Clergy— 
Impolicy of Louis in offending the Pope and the Emperor—William 
cultivates the English nobles, and conciliates the Roman Catholic 
Princes—The States of Holland approve of the invasion of England— 
James receives intelligence of William’s design—He tries concilia¬ 
tory measures. 


On the 8th of June, Sancroft and his colleagues were 
summoned before the Privy Council, where, while Jefferies 
interrogated and threatened them with his usual insolence, 
they properly declined to answer; but, when the King him¬ 
self laid his commands on them to reply to the questions 
put to them, then, not to be wanting in personal respect to 
his Majesty, they owned their signatures to the petition, 
and the fact that they had themselves presented it to the 
King. Jefferies at once announced to them that they should 
be prosecuted in the Court of King’s Bench, and when, 
standing on their privilege as peers, they refused to give bail, 
signed a warrant committing them to the Tower. 

The impolicy of such a step became apparent the moment 
after it had been taken. The excitement in London had 
been very great ever since it had been known that the 


74 ' The English Revolution. 

Bishops were before the Council, but, when the intelligence 
got abroad that they were to be imprisoned, it became 
unrestrainable and universal. The Thames was still the 
highway from Westminster to the Tower, and the citizens 
in thousands flocked to the banks, thronged the streets 
which led to the river, mounted even to the roofs of the 
houses to obtain a view of them as they passed, or, taking 
boats, escorted them down the stream, invoking blessings 
on their heads; their feelings being shared by the very 
soldiers on guard at the old fortress; even the rude troopers 
threw themselves on their knees before the Prelates as 
they passed through the gates, reverently asked their bless¬ 
ing, and, in spite of the menaces of the Lieutenant of the 
Tower, the same Sir Edward Hales whose mock trial had 
been one of the King’s earliest blunders, drank their 
healths in military fashion through the night. 

So universal a demonstration of the popular feeling might 
well have induced the most headstrong despot to pause. 
It did make the King’s councillors waver; and two days 
afterwards an event occurred which, in the eyes even of 
those who had been most forward in counselling violent 
measures, afforded James an opportunity of retracing his 
steps with dignity and grace. 

On the morning of the ioth, the Queen was safely 
delivered of a son, and it was represented to James that 
so joyful an occurrence might well be made a pretext 
for a political amnesty: that it would be a good omen 
for the infant Prince himself that his birth should be the 
occasion of releasing such illustrious prisoners. But the 
heart of James was as callous as his understanding, and, as 
the one was incapable of taking warning from indications 
which were plain enough to every one else, so the other was 


Birth of the Prince of Wales. 


75 


too hard to be softened by prosperity, even by the fulfilment 
of his most cherished and anxious desire. He could only 
answer that his purpose to go on was inflexibly fixed; that 
his father had been ruined by his concessions, and that he 
himself had hitherto been too indulgent; and on the 15th 
the Bishops were brought into Court at Westminster before 
the judges. An information was exhibited against them by 
the Attorney-General, and, when they had pleaded “ Not 
Guilty,” they received notice that their trial was fixed for 
the 29th. 

Even had James been able to bring his mind to pardon 
his prisoners, he would have required to be prompt in his 
decision, for in a day or two all opportunity of doing so 
gracefully had passed away. As has been already mentioned, 
when the Queen’s pregnancy was first announced, it was 
received with a very general incredulity; and now, the ill-will 
of the nation being perhaps sharpened by the severity with 
which the Bishops were treated, the belief in an imposture 
having been committed gained ground hourly. The birth 
had been attended by suspicious circumstances. On former 
occasions the Queen had proved incorrect in her calcula¬ 
tions ; 1 and so it happened in this instance that she was 
confined two or three weeks before she had expected. And 
with singular wrongheadedness, when her time came, James 
abstained from summoning as witnesses any of those nobles 
on whose testimony the people would have been inclined to 
place confidence, so that at the critical moment scarcely any 
were present but Roman Catholics; men and women whose 
evidence to the genuineness of the child was worse than no 

1 See Miss Strickland’s “ Life of Mary of Modena,” p. 149. The Queen 
had miscalculated a fortnight when her fourth child was born; before the 
witnesses whose presence was deemed necessary could be summoned. 


76 


The English Revolution. 


evidence at all, since they were the very people who were 
believed to have planned an imposture, and to have the 
greatest interest in carrying it out. The King wrote with his 
own hand to the Prince of Orange to announce the birth to 
him: and William at once despatched an envoy to England 
with his formal congratulations ; but the envoy on reaching 
London sent back word that scarcely any one believed that 
the Queen had had a child at all; and a day or two 
later 1 the -Princess Anne, who a short time before had 
gone to Bath intending to be back in time, wrote a long 
letter to the Princess Mary, her sister, in which she 
gave full expression to her own doubts on the subject, 
adding that, where one person did not share them a 
thousand did. 

After the Bishops had pleaded, they had been set at liberty 
on their own recognizances, but the excitement had not 
been allayed by their temporary release. On the contrary, 
it spread to the most distant parts of the kingdom, to 
Cornwall, in the extreme South-west, for Trelawney, Bishop of 
Bristol, and one of the seven, was of the oldest and purest 
blood in that Royal Duchy; in the North, it was felt even 
beyond the borders, the Presbyterians of Scotland displaying 
as warm an interest as the Episcopalians in the fate of 
those whom they now regarded as the champions of their 
common Protestantism, and of every principle of British 
freedom. 

Meanwhile, both sides prepared for the trial. The min¬ 
isters were sufficiently confident of the result, for, of the 
judges who were to try the case, two, Chief Justice Wright, 
and Judge Holloway, were notorious for their servility, to 

1 The date of the Princess’s letter is the 18th of June.—See Dalrym- 
ple, vol. III., p. 303. 


Trial of the Bishops. 


77 


which indeed they owed their seats on the bench ; a third, 
Allybone, was a Roman Catholic, and was bound, as it were, 
to uphold by his judgment the legality of the dispensation 
to which the Bishops had objected ; while the fourth, Powell, 
the only one who had the slightest reputation for ability or 
honesty, had shown on the trial of Sir Edward Hales that 
he feared to incur the displeasure of the Crown. But, not 
contented with these chances in their favour, the ministers 
also took especial pains to pack a jury. And James even 
condescended to summon before himself and Jefferies the 
Clerk of the Crown, whose duty it was to frame the panel, 
and to give him instructions how to perform his duty. 
The Bishops’ reliance was on the justice of their cause 
and the ability of their counsel, far superior to that of the 
Crown lawyers ; for of those who had been Attorney or 
Solicitor-General all the ablest had been dismissed, one after 
another, for their refusal to be made instruments for the 
violation of the law instead of its execution; and some of 
them were now the leaders for the defence. 

On the appointed day, the memorable 29th of June, the 
trial took place, the most momentous, with but one exception, 
that Westminster had ever beheld; and exceeding even 
that in the dense number and the dignity of the spectators 
who crowded every corner of, and avenue to, the Court; 
listening with anxiety, as breathless as if their own fate had 
depended on the issue, to every argument, and question and 
answer, and often displaying, with very irregular manifesta¬ 
tions of feeling, their opinions of some of the Crown wit¬ 
nesses. For a time, there seemed a probability that the 
charge against the Bishops might break down on a technical 
point. It was not at first easy to prove their handwriting. 
When that had been established it was even more difficult to 



y 8 The English Revolution . 

find a witness to prove that, as it was laid in the indictment, 
they had published it in Middlesex. But at last one of the 
Clerks of the Privy Council swore that he had been present 
when, at the King’s command, they acknowledged their 
handwriting; and Lord Sunderland proved that they had 
delivered the petition to the King at Whitehall, which, 
according to the argument of the Crown lawyers, was, in 
the eye of the law, a publication. 

And thus the case was at last put into a position to 
be argued on its merits; and those merits were little less 
than the whole Constitution of England. For the ques¬ 
tion, as even James would have put it, was, whether 
the King’s prerogative were absolutely unlimited; whether 
he could dispense at his sole pleasure with laws deli¬ 
berately enacted by Parliament; and whether it were a 
crime, even in Peers of Parliament, to petition him to re¬ 
consider and withdraw an edict which he had once issued. 
These were, in truth, momentous questions, on the answer 
to be given to which the whole system of English law and 
English liberty was at stake. The cause of the Bishops was 
the cause of the whole nation; and it was maintained by 
their counsel with an ability and courage which did honour 
to the whole profession. Most of them were men of well- 
established celebrity; Pemberton had been Chief Justice in 
the reign of Charles II., and had been dismissed by that 
shameless monarch on account of his refusal to be made a 
tool for the oppression of innocent men. Sawyer and Finch 
had been recently dismissed from the offices of Attorney 
and Solicitor-General for the same fault, the most unpar¬ 
donable of all in the eyes of a tyrant, a want of servility; 
another, Sir G. Treby, had been Recorder of London; 
a fifth, Pollexfen, had long been leader of the Western 


Trial of the Bishops. 79 

Circuit. All did their duty to their clients manfully and 
ably. 

But the brightest laurels were won by the youngest of the 
whole body, a barrister named Somers, whose Whig opinions 
had hitherto kept him from all preferment, but who was 
known to all his professional brethren as one of the soundest 
lawyers in Westminster Hall, and especially trustworthy on 
all constitutional questions. He took the indictment to 
pieces, word by word, subjecting it with merciless logic to 
every test of truth and of law. The Bishops were indicted 
for having published a false, malicious, seditious libel tending 
to the defaming of the King’s Government, and the Crown 
lawyers had contended that, even if the matter of the peti¬ 
tion were true in fact, it might nevertheless be a libel; and 
that, though the two Houses of Parliament had a right to 
petition the King, they had no such right when they were 
not sitting; much less had any individual members of 
either House such a right; and that the votes of the two 
Houses in the late reign, since they had never been embodied 
in any formal bill, were not of any validity to restrain the 
King in the exercise of the dispensing power. But Somers 
scattered these arguments to the winds by reference to the 
journals of the Parliament, and to the record which they 
contained, that Charles II. had, in deference to the vote 
of the Houses, cancelled the Indulgence of which they had 
complained. He proved, in a similar way, that Peers had a 
right of access and petition to the King at any time ; that the 
paper presented to the King was no libel, but a legitimate 
petition founded on the established and recognized laws 
of the realm; and that the placing of it privately in the 
King’s hands was neither a seditious nor a malicious act, but 
the most loyal method of proceeding which could be taken, 


8 o The English Revolution. 

at once to avoid scandal, or any defamation of the King’s 
Government, and at the same time to maintain the law. 

The case was so clear, and the arguments so irresistible, 
that even the judges, on whom the Court had reckoned 
with the greatest confidence, dared not wholly to fulfil 
its expectations. All the leading Peers were among the 
audience; their House was the supreme court for the trial 
of impeachment; to quote the expression of a bystander, 
the Chief Justice looked as if he thought they all had 
halters in their pockets; and, in his charge to the jury, 
he wavered like a man trying to show his impartiality by 
opinions partly favourable to each side. He agreed with 
the counsel for the prisoners that they had a right to peti¬ 
tion ; but, with the counsel for the Crown, affirmed the 
petition in question to be seditious and libellous. One of 
his colleagues, Allybone, wholly followed his lead; a 
third, Holloway, declined to discuss the point how far 
the King did possess a dispensing power, but pronounced 
the petition respectful and legal. But the fourth, Judge 
Powell, boldly denied the existence of a power to dispense 
with law; pronounced the late Declaration of Indulgence 
illegal and void, and, as a matter of course, sustained the 
right of every subject to petition against it. 

The trial had not lasted long ; the witnesses had been 
few, and their examination brief ; advocates had not yet 
learned to consider prolixity a merit. Though ten barristers 
had spoken, and four judges had delivered separate charges, 
before evening the jury retired to consider their verdict, for 
which the crowd out-of-doors waited with intense and un¬ 
paralleled anxiety. Numbers walked about the precincts 
of the Hall and the adjacent streets the whole night; 
messengers came across from the Palace every hour to 


The Trial of the Bishops. 81 

pick up any intelligence, or rumour of intelligence, that 
might get abroad, and the Court was full of hope; for, 
though the Bishops' counsel had challenged all the most sus¬ 
picious names on the panel, they had not been able wholly 
to purify it; some of the jurymen were Nonconformists, and, 
as such, suspected of being unfriendly to Bishops in general, 
and two or three were known to depend on the Govern¬ 
ment or on the Palace for lucrative employment. The Royal 
brewer, a man named Michael Arnold, was one of these, 
and he was said, before the trial, to have complained of 
his position with comical bitterness. Whatever verdict he 
might pronounce, he was sure, he said, to be half ruined ; if 
he said “Not Guilty,” he should brew no more for the King; 
and if he said “Guilty,” he should brew no more for any one 
else. It was afterwards known that, after all his colleagues 
had agreed to acquit the Bishops, he had held out for a con¬ 
viction ; but at last he too yielded to the general feeling 
of his brother jurors, and to the manifest justice of the case; 
and long before the Court met in the morning the requisite 
unanimity was obtained. 

The fact that a verdict was agreed upon had oozed out, 
but no certain knowledge had been obtained what that 
verdict was; and the vast audience which crowded into the 
Court the moment that the doors were opened waited with 
anxiety too great for words till the judges took their seats, 
and the jurors came down from the room in which they had 
been consulting. It was amid profound and breathless 
silence that the clerk asked them for their verdict. But the 
moment that the foreman declared the prisoners not guilty 
that silence was broken by one universal uproar. The great 
statesman and orator of the Peers, Lord Halifax, forgot 
for a moment his habitual calmness; springing from his 


82 


The English Revolution. 


seat, he waved his hat, and, as if they took his gesture for 
a signal, the whole body of spectators raised a cheer so 
universal and so loud, that, as one of them has recorded in 
a diary, it seemed to make the very roof crack. The shouts 
were re-echoed by those outside in the hall; and, as the 
tidings reached the crowd beyond, the acclamations con¬ 
veyed them to the most distant parts of the city more 
rapidly than any formal messengers; while horsemen rode 
off eagerly into the country, every one seeking to be the 
first to spread the joyful intelligence. 

The King himself had gone down that morning to 
the camp at Hounslow, where an express from Lord 
Sunderland found him. He soon learnt that the very 
soldiers on whom he had depended sympathized with 
the citizens. Burning with rage, he was preparing to 
return to London, when the whole heath resounded with 
a sudden shouting. He asked what was the tumult: 
“Nothing/’ replied his attendant, “but that the soldiers 
are rejoicing at the acquittal of the Bishops.” “ Do you 
call that nothing?” said he; “but so much the worse for 
them.” “ So much the worse for them,” he kept repeat¬ 
ing to himself, and, on his return, vented his rage in acts 
which he meant to give effect to his words. He dismissed 
Judges Holloway and Powell from the bench. He issued 
a proclamation forbidding the citizens to assemble in the 
streets, or to make any demonstration; but, as if the 
very display of his wrath had strengthened their convic¬ 
tion of the greatness and substantial value of their triumph, 
the whole population thronged the thoroughfares; the 
whole city was lighted up with bonfires and illuminations; 
rockets were sent up; and, as if to mark more emphatically 
that the verdict of the morning had been a triumph of 



General Joy at the Verdict. 


83 


Protestantism over Popery, effigies of the Pope himself, 
dressed in pontifical robes and crowned with the tiara, were 
paraded about the city, and solemnly committed to the 
flames. 

As the news reached the provinces, similar exultation was 
displayed in all the principal cities and towns. James 
could not for a moment deceive himself as to the univer¬ 
sality of the resistance which he had provoked. But the 
same day which brought the acquittal of the Bishops was 
signalized by another act of which he was not at first aware, 
but which was for him of all others the most fatal expression 
of the feeling of the nation that forbearance and patience 
had reached their limits. A letter signed in cipher by 
seven men of great influence, who might be taken as repre¬ 
sentatives of the most important parties and classes in the 
State, was transmitted to the Prince of Orange. Those who 
drew up and signed it were not only leading Whigs, whose 
disapproval of the King's policy might have been reckoned 
on, or whose political enmity was sharpened by a sense of 
personal injury; some were sturdy Tories and Church¬ 
men, with whom non-resistance had long been a favourite 
article of their political creed, and who had given repeated 
proofs of personal loyalty and attachment to James and his 
family. r 

The letter assured the Prince that “the dissatisfaction 
“ of the people with the present conduct of the Govern- 
“ ment in relation to their religion, liberties, and proper- 
“ ties, and their fear for the future, was such that nineteen 

1 Those who signed the letter were the Earls of Shrewsbury, Devon¬ 
shire, and Danby; Bishop Compton; Lord Lumley, who during Mon¬ 
mouth's rebellion had been one of James's most energetic generals; 
Admiral Russell, and Mr. Henry Sidney, who indeed was not free from 
suspicion of republicanism. 


G 2 


8 4 


The English Revolution. 


“ parts out of twenty throughout the kingdom were desirous 
“ of a change, and would willingly contribute to it, if 
“ they had a sufficient protection to countenance their 
“ rising; that the greater part of the nobility were equally 
“ dissatisfied; that they made no question that they could 
“ soon collect a force double that of the army, even if the 
“ army should remain firm to the Court, though they did 
“ on very good grounds believe that the army was divided, 
“ for that very many of the common soldiers showed such 
“ an aversion to the Popish religion that numbers might 
“ be expected to desert; while of the seamen, not one in 
“ ten would stand by the Court. That they feared lest, 
“ if immediate steps were not taken, before another year 
“ the Government would have taken such courses, by 
“ remodelling the army, and tampering with the electoral 
“ body, as would prevent all possible means of relief. " They 
ventured even gently to complain of his having sent con¬ 
gratulations on the birth of the Prince of Wales; assuring 
him “ that not one person in a thousand believed the child 
“ lately born to be the Queen's; and that this attempt 
“ falsely to impose a supposititious child upon the Princess 
“ and the nation would be a sufficient reason to justify the 
“ Prince's entering the kingdom in a hostile manner. For 
“ these and other reasons, they begged the Prince to come 
“ to England before the end of the year with whatever 
“ force, arms, ammunition, and artillery he might judge 
“ necessary; and promised that they who signed this would 
“ not fail to attend upon His Highness at his landing, and 
“ to do all in their power to prepare others." 

The Revolution was begun. 

The invitation which was thus sent had not taken the 
Prince by surprise. It had been in some degree concerted 


35 


Invitation to the Prince of Orange. 

with him. Ever since he had rejected the previous sugges¬ 
tions which had recommended such a line of action, he had 
been carefully watching the course of affairs and the state of 
feeling in England. His friends there had kept him con¬ 
stantly supplied with intelligence : and, on the promulgation 
of the late Declaration, Admiral Russell had crossed over 
to the Hague to renew the proposal that he should delay 
no longer, but should at once interpose in the affairs of the 
kingdom in the only manner in which interposition could 
be effectual, by crossing over with an army. 

Such advice now coincided with the opinion of William 
himself; he too judged that the time had come for him to 
assert his right to interfere, but he was a man whom the 
desire to effect an object never blinded to the dangers and 
difficulties of an undertaking. He felt that, in spite of his 
connection with the royal family, such an enterprise as that 
proposed to him could never succeed unless it were exten¬ 
sively supported by men of credit and influence in the 
kingdom; while his knowledge of human nature taught him 
that flattering expressions of general goodwill, and loose 
verbal promises, might prove, when the hour of trial should 
come, far too feeble bonds to bind their utterers. Nor had 
Russell himself, though a bold and able man, such a charac¬ 
ter for prudence and steadiness as to command implicit 
confidence from one who had inherited, in the fullest degree, 
the sobriety of judgment and far-sighted caution which, for 
many generations, had been among the most marked 
characteristics of his family. 

We have unusual means of knowing William’s real 
sentiments at this and other critical moments during the 
remainder of his life, from a history of the period left 
to us by the celebrated Bishop Burnet, a man who was 


86 


The English Revolution. 


more deeply in the Prince’s confidence than probably 
any other Englishman, and who was at this time at the 
Hague, and in daily communication with him. And 
Burnet relates that, on Russell’s arrival, William laid open 
his views to him more explicitly than he had ever done 
before; pointing out to him that the ruin which failure in 
such an attempt must bring on both England and Holland 
imposed on him, in honour and conscience, the duty of 
making every step sure; and therefore that he should not 
feel justified in moving till he had received a formal and 
direct, or, in other words, a written invitation. Russell 
laid before him the danger of trusting such a secret to great 
numbers; the Prince said, if a considerable number of 
men that might be supposed to understand the sense of the 
nation best should do it, he would acquiesce in it. And 
with this answer the Admiral returned to England. The 
invitation was drawn up and signed. Another Admiral, 
Herbert, brother of the Chief Justice, who had been 
member for Dover in the last Parliament, and who in the 
preceding year had been dismissed from all his posts 
because he declined to support the proposal for the 
abolition of the Test Act, undertook the hazardous employ¬ 
ment of conveying the letter to Holland : and, few as the 
signatures were, the position and influence of the writers were 
sufficient to satisfy the Prince’s requirements. He decided 
on accepting the invitation, and began to make preparations 
for the expedition, of which he did not disguise from himself 
the great and various difficulties. 

In truth, the enterprise was full of difficulties on every 
side, difficulties with respect to England, difficulties exist¬ 
ing in Holland, difficulties which might be expected to arise 
from foreign countries. He was well aware that his 


Views of the Clergy. 


87 


friends in England were not limited to the small number 
that had signed the invitation; that his project was known 
to, and was not unfavourably regarded by, statesmen of high 
rank and reputation, such as the Earl of Nottingham; that, 
when he should reach England, he could count on the 
approval and sanction of more than one Bishop, on the 
more active co-operation of many military officers; and 
among them, and most especially, on that of Lord Churchill, 
whose pre-eminent abilities were already widely known in the 
army. But he also knew, with equal certainty, that his at¬ 
tempt was regarded as hopeless by some of the ablest men 
in the kingdom, such as the Marquis of Halifax, and as 
impious by some of the most virtuous and conscientious, 
especially among the clergy. 

The most learned divines and most eloquent preachers 
of the Church of England, since the first breaking-out of 
the rebellion in the reign of Charles I., had constantly and 
most unreservedly affirmed the doctrine that no amount of 
misgovernment in a sovereign could absolve the subject 
from his allegiance, much less justify armed resistance to 
his authority; while, if he were to be accompanied by a 
Dutch army, as even those who had invited him over con¬ 
sidered indispensable, it was to be feared that many who 
had no conscientious scruples on the score of passive obe¬ 
dience would be roused, by national and patriotic pride, to 
resist the pretensions of foreign soldiers to expel their native 
King, and replace him by a foreigner. For, however he 
might seek to veil his purpose under plausible pretexts and 
an affected moderation, there can be no question that 
William, from the first, aimed at the crown, and foresaw that 
his enterprise, if successful, could only end by placing it on 
his.head* 


88 


The English Revolution. 

In his own country the difficulties were even greater, 
arising partly from the peculiarities of the Dutch Constitu¬ 
tion, and partly from the religious divisions which had 
prevailed in the Dutch provinces ever since the Reforma¬ 
tion. Even on the day 1 when the peace of Antwerp 
secured their civil and religious liberties, the Dutch were not 
all united on the subject of religion; the great city of 
Amsterdam, which had been almost the latest convert to 
Protestantism, having espoused the Arminian doctrines, 
while Calvinism was the prevailing creed of most of the 
other cities. Political differences were not long in following. 
There was an Orange party and a French party, of which, 
again, Amsterdam was the chief support; the rival Protes¬ 
tant sects hating one another with almost as much bitterness 
as they hated Papists; and each political party usually 
regarding the ascendency of the other as an evil scarcely 
less to be dreaded than the domination of a foreigner. Yet 
in the councils of a State thus, to all appearance, irrecon¬ 
cilably divided, absolute unanimity was necessary in every 
single measure. Not only was the consent of each separate 
province necessary to every act of the States-General, but 
the consent of every municipality in each province was 
indispensable to enable that province to signify its decision. 
A single town, therefore, however unimportant, had the 
power to neutralize the vote and counteract the will of all 
the rest of the nation. Absolute unanimity was indispens¬ 
able, and, in an undertaking of so novel a character as the 
invasion of England, absolute unanimity might well have 
seemed unattainable. 

The difficulties which William might anticipate from 

The peace with Spain, which was nominally only a truce for twelve 
years, was signed at Antwerp, January nth, 1609. 


The Feelings of Foreign Sovereigns. 89 

foreign countries were hardly less serious. The most power¬ 
ful of the neighbours of the United States, the Emperor 
and the King of France, were Roman Catholics, and it 

was obvious that the first result of William’s success must 

\ 

be the extinction of all the hopes of the Roman Catholics 
in England ; while the ulterior object which he secretly 
cherished, and which indeed was the temptation which more 
than any other induced him to desire the throne of England, 
was the prospect of being thus enabled to form a league 
against France which might overthrow the ascendency which 
Louis XIV. had established over the whole Continent. For, 
apart from his statesmanlike zeal for the independence of 
the different European kingdoms, William had a personal 
quarrel with the rapacious and insolent tyrant who at that 
time occupied the French throne. One of Louis’s first acts, 
after he was old enough to take upon himself the direction 
of the Government, had been to overrun and annex to 
France the little principality of Orange, from which 
William derived his title. Not one of his aggressions was 
more unprovoked and wanton, the sole motive for it, 
apparently, being that Orange was a Protestant state, 
and, as such, offered a convenient asylum to those 
Huguenots who, as they found the privileges granted to 
them by Henry IV. gradually abridged, were often glad to 
emigrate to a more secure home. William himself was but 
ten years old, but was old enough to feel deep indignation 
at being thus stripped of his inheritance, and throughout 
his life his views of public policy, wise in themselves, were 
sharpened by his desire to avenge his private wrongs. 

Nor was it only that he was thus beset on all sides by the 
most perplexing difficulties, but they were also of a kind 
which no efforts of his could overcome without assistance. 


90 


The English Revolution. 


Fortunately for himself and for England, that assistance was 
afforded him by those who alone could give it effectually, 
by the very objects of his hostility, James and Louis them¬ 
selves. The King of England, the moment that he had 
recovered from the shock of the Bishops’ acquittal, took 
step after step to show that his feelings towards the Church 
of England were but embittered by the event. He now 
issued an order to the chief officials in each diocese to 
make a formal report to the High Commission of every 
clergyman who had omitted to read the Declaration of 
Indulgence, and, though the report, if made, would have 
included the names of nineteen-twentieths of the clergy 
throughout the kingdom, it was understood that he 
designed to proceed in that most unpopular and illegal 
Court against every one of them, with the probable result 
of procuring against them all sentences of deprivation. 
He invited the Pope to be godfather to the infant 
Prince of Wales; he renewed his attempts to tamper with 
the electors, and also with the army; even venturing to 
adopt measures of manifestly illegal constraint towards 
the soldiers. Selecting a single regiment for experiment, 
he instructed the officers to require the men to sign an 
engagement to aid him in procuring the repeal of the 
Test Act; the alternative being offered them of quitting 
the service. With the exception of a very small number, 
who were all Roman Catholics, the whole regiment at once 
laid down its arms, and James, unwilling to provoke a 
similar display in other corps, brought over from Ire¬ 
land some of the regiments which Lord Tyrconnel had 
been raising there from among the Roman Catholic 
peasantry. 

No force which could possibly have been collected 


James receives Warnings. 


9 1 


would have been sufficient to intimidate; a single brigade 
of such troops was sufficient to provoke, and to spread 
universal indignation; for the remembrance of the atrocities 
of O’Neill and his followers was still fresh, and contempt 
for the Irish nation was largely mingled with resentful 
detestation. So strong was the feeling that, in the different 
English regiments, the men refused to admit recruits from 
Ireland, even the commanding officers protesting against 
the order to enlist Irishmen as an insult to the army and 
the nation. 

James was thus alienating at the same time the Church¬ 
men, the very body whose abstract principles most bound 
them to uphold his prerogative, and the soldiery, whose 
support, in the event of any appeal to force, was even more 
important; and he had more than one warning that he 
might soon have need of all the strength which he could 
command; he could not be ignorant of the discontent in 
his own country, which, as it increased, rapidly became 
more and more undisguised in its expression. But he 
received also repeated notices from foreign countries, from 
France and from Holland, where the preparations of the 
Prince of Orange, in spite of all the caution and secrecy of 
his movements, could not fail to excite suspicion. Before 
the end of July the French envoy at the Hague reported to 
his Government that the steps which were being taken in 
Holland could hardly have any object but the invasion of 
England; and Louis, displaying even more than his usual 
vigilance and energy in the cause of a kinsman whose safety 
was so essential to his own designs, not only tried to in¬ 
timidate the states of Holland from sanctioning the conduct 
and designs of their Stadtholder, by formal announcement 
of the closeness of the alliance which subsisted between 


92 


The English Revolution . 


James and himself, but he sent over a confidential minister 
to England to convey to James the clearest information of 
all that he had to apprehend, and offers of substantial 
assistance both by land and sea. Luckily James was at 

■m 

this moment so blinded by his anger, and by his confidence 
in his ultimate success through the means which he con¬ 
ceived to be in his own hands, that he was rather inclined 
to take umbrage at Louis’s advice than to profit by it. 
He saw in it a spirit of dictation, to submit to which 
was inconsistent with his dignity. He publicly denied the 
existence of the close alliance with France which Louis had 
proclaimed; he declared that vanity and flattery had turned 
his cousin’s head; and that a King of England was not so 
insignificant a sovereign as to stand in need of protection, 
so ostentatious an offer of which was little short of an insult. 

And at the same time Louis, in spite of the good advice 
which he was giving to the King of England, proved him¬ 
self to be almost equally in need of counsels of prudence 
and sobriety for his own conduct; and, with singular perver¬ 
sity, selected the very moment when such danger threatened 
the maintenance of the connection between France and 
England, which, for his ulterior designs, was as important 
to himself as to James, to embroil himself with some of the 
most influential powers of the Continent, and among them 
with the Estates of Holland, the nation in which, of all 
others, it would have been easiest to maintain his influence, 
and in which, at the present crisis, it must be most mis¬ 
chievous to lose it. 

His revocation of the Edict of Nantes, three years before, 
had excited peculiar indignation among the Dutch, because 
the vicinity of the two countries had tempted many of 
their fellow-citizens across the frontier to settle in France; 


Louis quarrels with the Pope. 93 

and they had been treated since the revocation with peculiar 
severity, not even being allowed to return to their native 
land, if they had obtained letters of naturalization in France. 
Still more recently, he had imposed increased duties on 
many articles in which Holland had previously had a 
profitable trade with France, and had altogether prohibited 
the importation of others. He picked one quarrel with the 
Pope, insisting on privileges for his ambassador at Rome 
which were incompatible with the government and tran¬ 
quillity of the city, and which every other sovereign had 
renounced; and he defied and insulted at once the Pope, 
the Emperor, and the Germanic body, on the subject of 
the great Archbishopric of Cologne, which happened to 
be vacant, and into which he endeavoured to force a 
candidate of his own choice, and one who should be sub¬ 
servient to his will, though the Archbishop was an Elector 
of the Empire, and though no prince, except those of Ger¬ 
man blood, could have the very slightest right to interfere in 
the election. And, finally, in the September of this year, he 
invaded Germany on the most ridiculous pretexts, of which 
the rejection of the pretensions of his creature, the Cardinal 
of Furstenburg, to the Archbishopric was among the most 
prominent; and by express orders, signed with his own 
hand, enjoined his marshals to wage the war thus wantonly 
begun with a ferocity of which, since the dark ages, and 
the irruptions of the Goths and Huns into Italy, Europe 
had seen no example. 

By all this conduct, of which it is hard to say whether 
the irritating insolence was more inconsistent with states¬ 
manship, or the vindictive ferocity with humanity, he had 
just at this moment completely alienated his commercial 
friends in the United States, and his brother Romanists in 


94 


The English Revolution. 


Germany and Italy ; so that the merchants of Amsterdam, 
long and fierce as had been their hostility to the House 
of Orange, now learnt to look with favour on the designs 
of the Prince whose constant object was to pull down the 
French ascendency; and that even the Emperor and the 
Pope were forced to regard William’s Protestantism as 
fraught with less personal danger and insult to themselves 
than the Popery of Louis; and were more inclined to co¬ 
operate in than to thwart his enterprise, even though directed 
to the overthrow of a Roman Catholic sovereign. 

Amid such a combination of favourable circumstances, 
William was not wanting to himself. Of those in England 
who had invited him to the country, he was already sure; 
but in the course of the next few weeks he contrived so 
completely to inspire others also with confidence that, before 
the end of August, he had received assurances of assistance 
from many of the servants in whom James himself placed 
the most implicit trust, and who were, perhaps, beyond any 
other men in the kingdom, the most able to further or to 
frustrate his designs. Especially could he reckon on Lord 
Sunderland, the holder of two great ministerial offices; and 
on Lord Churchill, the most skilful of English generals, 
whose adhesion was also important in another point of 
view, from the entire influence which he and his wife had 
over the councils of the Princess Anne. To the Roman 
Catholic princes on the Continent he was of course unable 
to make any precise revelation of his schemes; but he 
secured their general goodwill by the full assurances 
which he gave them of his desire and resolution, in all 
the reforms which he hoped to see established in England, 
that the most complete toleration for every exercise of 
their religion should be secured to the Roman Catholics 


Conduct of the Dutch Estates. 95 

in every part of the United Kingdom; while his known 
hostility to Louis, which needed no declaration on his 
part, was in fact a still greater recommendation to princes 
who had good reason to look on that sovereign as the com¬ 
mon enemy of all. 

And during the summer of 1688 this feeling extended so 
rapidly over the whole Continent, that, when at last William 
opened his plan in detail to the Dutch Estates, and 
requested their sanction to his contemplated enterprise, 
even the Council of Amsterdam, which, from the very 
establishment of the national independence, had been the 
resolute antagonist of his family, was ashamed to oppose 
him. An armed expedition to England was unanimously 
approved. The raising of a large loan to provide him with 
funds was voted with equal cordiality; the consent of 
the States being so ratified by the enthusiasm of the 
people that the money required was contributed in four 
days. 

Meantime James had been conducting himself with a 
strange mixture of arrogance and supineness; receiving all 
warnings of the proceedings in Holland with contemptuous 
indifference, and showing similar disdain for the cautions 
which some even of his previously obsequious tools in 
England ventured to address to him on the subject of his 
open disregard for the laws and feelings of the nation. At 
last, about the beginning of October, a sudden change 
came over him. He received from Albeville, his Envoy at 
the Hague, intelligence, which he could no longer doubt, that 
an invasion of England was not only decided on, but was 
ready to sail; and, in a moment passing from the height of 
confidence to the extremity of fear, he tried to avert the 
danger by concessions, conciliating measures, and speeches 


96 


The English Revolution. 


which he hoped would in an instant efface all recollection of 
three years’ violence and lawlessness. 

He did not, indeed, renounce the dispensing power, but 
he issued a proclamation promising to protect the Church 
of England. He abandoned the demand for the repeal of 
the Test Act; he removed the suspension which had been 
pronounced against the Bishop of London, and replaced 
the magistrates and other officers who had been dismissed ; 
he restored the charters of the different corporations; he 
abolished the Court of High Commission, and even con¬ 
descended to lay before an extraordinary council, consisting 
of all the most eminent men in the kingdom who were 
within reach of London, proofs of the birth of his son, 
which all present admitted to be conclusive and irresistible. 
But this conduct, which, if adopted earlier, might have 
prevented any idea of such an enterprise as William’s from 
being ever entertained, was of no avail now, either to change 
the Prince’s determination, or to appease the irritation and 
distrust of those who had invited him, while, by a peculiar 
ill-fortune which at this moment seemed to attend all his 
measures, one or two accidental circumstances which hap¬ 
pened just as intelligence arrived that the Dutch fleet had 
been driven back to its native shores in a storm, created a 
general belief that the news of its disaster had prompted 
James to change the policy which he had just announced, 
and to resume his former line of bigotry and severity. 


CHAPTER VI. 


William sets sail for England—Circulates a manifesto giving his reasons 
for the expedition—William lands in Devonshire—Embarrassment 
and agitation of the King—Men of influence gradually join the 
Prince—Lord Cornbury joins William—Risings in favour of the 
Prince take place in many parts of the kingdom—James leaves 
London for Salisbury, and William advances from Exeter—Lord 
Churchill deserts James—Flight of the Princess Anne—James returns 
to London—Debate in the Council—Lord Dartmouth refuses to convey 
the Prince of Wales to France—Writs are issued for a new Parlia¬ 
ment. 

William had set sail from Helvoet-Sluys on the 19th of 
October; but, after being a few hours at sea, had been 
driven back by a violent storm, in which the whole fleet 
was scattered; one ship was driven with her crew on the 
English coast, and many others were severely damaged. 
But the injuries were soon repaired ; and by the end of the 
month, the armament was re-equipped. November opened 
eventfully. On All Saint’s Day, 1 a favourite divine, Father 
Gaillard, was preaching before Louis at Versailles, when 
the great War Minister, Louvois, suddenly interrupted the 
service, by bringing to the King a despatch, announcing 
the capture of the important fortress of Philipsbourg by 
the Dauphin. The King stopped the sermon, announced 

1 See Madame de Sevignd’s Letter to Madame de Grignon, dated 
November 3rd, 1688. See the Author's "History of France under the 
Bourbons,” II. p. 294. 


98 The English Revolution. 

the triumph aloud to the congregation, and offered up 
an extemporaneous prayer of thanksgiving; and then the 
preacher, being allowed to resume his discourse, so im¬ 
proved the occasion with a description of the visible favour 
shown by the Almighty to the King and all his enterprises, 
that the whole congregation was dissolved in tears. 

The success, such as it was, was abundantly counter¬ 
balanced. The wind, which throughout nearly the whole of 
October had blown from the south-west, had suddenly shifted 
to the east, the Protestant wind, as for the last fortnight the 
citizens of London had been calling it in their prayers, 
and before sunset on the same 1st of November, his per¬ 
severing enemy, the Prince of Orange, again put to sea, at 
the head of probably the most numerous fleet which had 
ever been seen in the British Channel. More than fifty 
men-of-war escorted above 500 transports, conveying 5,000 
cavalry, 11,000 infantry, about half of which were English 
regiments, which had for some time been in the service 
of the States; and with them many English and Scotch 
nobles, who had joined the Prince within the last few 
weeks, the Earl of Shrewsbury, the Earl of Macclesfield, 
the Earl of Argyll, the Earl of Winchester, and others, 
some of whom had brought money, which they had raised 
by mortgages on their estates, to aid the enterprise. So 
eagerly did the Dutch enter into the attempt, that they 
even dismantled their fortresses to supply the army with 
artillery, and retained but twelve men-of-war for the defence 
of their coasts. , 

There had been a great discussion in William’s Council, 
what should be the point of destination. Lord Danby had 
recommended some Yorkshire port, because his influence 
was greatest in that district; but Herbert had objected to 


99 


William sails for England. 

keep the fleet off that coast during the winter, and eventually 
William resolved to endeavour to land in Yorkshire, and 
then to send the fleet round to the Channel. 1 William 
himself led the way in the “ Brill ” frigate, at the topmast 
of which his flag bore the arms of England and Nassau, 
with his hereditary motto, “ I will Maintain,” lengthened 
by the addition of the words, “ The Liberties of England 
and the Protestant Religion.” But the fleet was under the 
command of the English Admiral Herbert, the same officer 
who, in June, had undertaken the dangerous enterprise of 
conveying him the invitation. 

The Dutch sailors had not consented without some 
reluctance to serve under a foreign commander, who also 
belonged to the nation with which, in the course of the 
last thirty years, they had been engaged in such frequent 
and fierce struggles; but William, whose policy was by 
all means to avoid a battle if possible, conceived that, if 
he should meet the English fleet, Herbert’s influence with 
the British sailors might very probably avert an engage¬ 
ment ; while, if a battle should prove inevitable, his 
success, if he should succeed, would be less mortifying 
to English pride for being achieved by their own country¬ 
man. Of the army, William himself was Commander-in- 

i Macaulay represents the northward course taken by the fleet on first 
leaving harbour to have been only a feint to deceive the English light 
vessels which Lord Dartmouth had sent to watch it; but I have preferred 
to follow Burnet, who was in the fleet, and can hardly have been mistaken 
as to William’s design. He reports the discussion which took place in the 
Prince’s Council on the subject, and then proceeds to say : “The Prince 
was resolved to have split the matter and to have landed in the 
north, and then to have sent the fleet to lie in the Channel” (p. 778); 
and (p. 787) affirms that it was only the impossibility, on the 1st of 
November, of making head against the wind so as to get to the north, that 
ultimately led to the landing in Devonshire. 


H 2 


ioo The English Revolution. 

Chief; the second in command was the French Marshal 
Schomberg, who, being a Protestant, had been driven from 
the service of Louis by the revocation of the Edict of 
Nantes; and who was expected to be almost as acceptable 
in England as a native, being recommended to the English 
partly by the sacrifices which he had made for the sake 
of religion, and partly by an intimate acquaintance with 
their language ; and also by his friendship with many of the 
leading men of the kingdom, to whom he had become 
known in more than one long visit which he had paid to this 
country. 1 A Scotch officer of reputation, General Mackay, 
had the English regiments under his special command. 

On that same day also, a manifesto, or Declaration as it 
was called, reached London, and began to be secretly circu- 


i The Count Schomberg was a sufficiently remarkable man to deserve 
a more extended notice than could be taken of him in the text. When 
Louis first began to take the government of his kingdom into his own hands, 
Turenne had recommended Schomberg to the King as one of the ablest 
officers in the army. Many successful campaigns in Portugal, Spain, and 
Flanders had fully borne out the great Marshal’s panegyric. In one 
memorable instance, Schomberg had foiled William himself, and had 
compelled him to raise the siege of Maestrecht, though the Prince, as 
was not unusual with him, conducted his retreat with such skilful hardi¬ 
hood that he rather gained than lost credit by his failure. And so 
thoroughly did the Count impress Louis with a sense of his value that, 
though he refused to purchase a marshal’s truncheon by the desertion 
of his religion, Louis gave it to him without insisting on the sacrifice, 
and he was the last Huguenot who ever obtained that much-coveted pro¬ 
motion. In spite, however, of religious differences, Louis had no more 
faithful servant till the fatal bigotry of Madame de Maintenon and the 
Jesuits overcame his principles of toleration or indifference. No excep¬ 
tion was made, even in favour of such a man as the Count, in the rigour 
with which the revocation of the Edict of Nantes was carried out; and 
Schomberg, deprived of rank and employment, withdrew to Holland, 
where his former antagonist, the Prince, received him with open arms. 
Schomberg, too, had national injuries to avenge besides his own, for he 
was a native of the Palatinate which Louis had so cruelly ravaged. 


William's Manifesto. ioi 

lated by William’s partisans. It had been drawn up by the 
Dutch minister, Fagel, with the aid of Burnet, and specified 
the principal causes which had moved the Prince to under¬ 
take the enterprise : “ The grievances of the English people 
“ flowing from the King’s open and notorious violation of 
“ the established laws of the kingdom; through too great a 
“ compliance with the advice of evil counsellorsfor the 
whole paper carefully preserved the constitutional distinction 
between the King and his ministers. “ The exercise of the 
“ dispensing power, which laid all the laws at the foot of the 
“ throne, and which had been used for the purpose of break- 
“ ing down the barriers contrived for the security of the Pro- 
“ testant religion. The Court of High Commission had been 
“ illegally erected, and an avowed Papist had been placed 
“ upon it for the express purpose of oppressing the Church 
“ of England; the charters of many boroughs and cities had 
“ been illegally forfeited; magistrates had been removed in 
“ great numbers for no offence but a refusal to break, or to 
“ connive at breaking the law; and it had been charged as 
“ a crime, even against prelates and peers of the realm, that 
“ they had petitioned against such conduct. Finally, there 
“ were grave reasons for believing that an attempt had been 
“ made to rob the Princess of her lawful inheritance, by in- 
“ troducinga supposititious child into the royal family. To 
“ put an end to these evils, the Prince had been solicited by 
“ many of the peers, both spiritual and temporal, to cross 
“ over to England to procure the meeting of a free Parliament, 
“ legally convened and elected ; which was the only constitu- 
“ tional and effectual remedy for them. He had no other 
“ object. To such a Parliament he would leave the regula- 
“ tion of all the matters in question, acquiescing in and sup- 
“ porting their decisions in every point; and especially all 


102 The English Revolution. 

“ their measures for the preservation of the Church and the 
“ established religion ; and for the security to all men of due 
“ freedom of conscience.” 

At first the fleet bore up towards the north, trying to 
reach Hull, but the wind was too dead foul to allow them 
to make any way in that direction. Herbert had always 
been unfavourable to such a course, and at noon on the 
2nd it was given up ; the fleet was put about, and the reso¬ 
lution was taken to make for Torbay. The voyage now 
proceeded so rapidly that by breakfast-time on the 3rd, the 
Straits of Dover had been reached. The preceding night 
had been one of great anxiety, for a powerful fleet of up¬ 
wards of thirty sail of the line lay on the Essex coast just 
outside the mouth of the Thames, under the command of 
the Earl of Dartmouth, an officer of unshaken loyalty, and 
one to whom the seamen were greatly attached ; and an 
encounter with such a force, unencumbered by any convoy, 
might have been fatal to the whole enterprise; but Dart¬ 
mouth had no information where to look for the enemy. 
William had taken the greatest precautions to prevent any 
knowledge of his intended movements from getting abroad; 
he had laid an embargo on all vessels in the Dutch ports, 
and, even had Dartmouth known his intended course, the 
same wind which prevented William from going northward, 
hindered him also from leaving his anchorage. The Protes¬ 
tant wind had served a double object, it had hastened 
William on his way, and baffled all attempts to intercept him. 

Even when, in the night of the 3rd, a messenger from 
Dover reached London with the news that the invading 
force had passed the Straits, and was steering for the 
west, Dartmouth was still unable to move, and it was some 
hours later before a change of wind allowed him to reach 


William lands in Torbay . 103 

the open sea, and to bend his course also in the direction 
which Herbert had taken; and the very change of wind 
which at last had allowed him to do this had also been 
favourable to William, for, on the 4th, when he was off 
Torbay, the weather was so hazy that the pilot could 
not see the landmarks. He overshot the entrance, and 
passed on, even beyond Dartmouth; and it was only a 
sudden veering round of the wind from east to south, in 
the afternoon of the 5 th, that enabled the invading fleet 
to turn back and anchor in the wished-for haven. 

William had hoped to effect his landing on the 4th, because 
that day was the anniversary both of his birth and of his 
wedding; but, in the eyes of the superstitious, and even of 
those who, though free from superstition themselves, knew 
its influence on the minds of the multitude, the 5th was a 
day of still better omen, since that day had already been 
signalized by one great deliverance of the nation from 
Popish machinations, in the detection of the Gunpowder 
Plot, and therefore, to sanguine enthusiasts, seemed more 
likely than another to bring with it a second interposition 
of Providence for the protection of Protestantism. 

The night of the 5th and the morning of the 6th were calm, 
and in a few hours the whole army was successfully dis¬ 
embarked. A short time was devoted to a public thanks¬ 
giving to God for the favour which, hitherto, he had so 
visibly shown to the enterprise, and in the afternoon the 
army began its march towards Exeter, the artillery and 
baggage being sent back by sea to the mouth of the Exe; 
the wind once more favouring them, for on the 4th Dart¬ 
mouth had by great exertions worked his way to the 
Downs, and was pressing westward in pursuit, when his 
advance was arrested by the same change which enabled 


104 The English Revolution. 

Herbert to turn back to Torbay; and now, while the heavily- 
laden artillery and. baggage vessels were laboriously and 
slowly making their way back to Topsham, the royal fleet, 
which by this time was at no great distance, was met by a 
violent storm, which drove it back in great disorder to 
Portsmouth. 

Still, though so far everything had gone in his favour, 
William was as yet relieved from no other anxiety. In 
one sense, his difficulties might be said only to have begun 
with his landing, for the army in James’s service was even 
more powerful than the fleet. The brigade which had 
been encamped on Hounslow Heath was at least equal 
to the whole of the invading force, and, from the moment 
that the King first received intelligence of William’s 
designs, he had displayed both energy and judgment in 
augmenting it. He had summoned to the south all the 
regular troops which had been in Scotland, leaving the 
defence of that kingdom to the militia. He had brought 
over regiments from Ireland, and the recruiting had been 
carried on with such vigour and success that he had at 
least 30,000 men under arms in the neighbourhood of 
London. William was well aware of his strength, and that 
his own prospects of success depended on the extent to 
which, now that he was in England, he himself might be 
reinforced by those who had invited him over, and by the 
still greater number of those who had been represented as 
secretly desirous of his arrival; and for some days the pros¬ 
pect of any such addition to his force seemed small. 

The weather and the roads were so bad, that though 
Exeter was less than thirty miles from the place at which 
he had landed, he did not reach that important city till the 
fourth day, and he did not meet the reception which he 


Agitation in London. 


105 


had looked for. The lower orders of the citizens, indeed, 
received him with acclamations, as the peasants in the 
rural villages had greeted him all along his line of march, 
but the magistrates and chief gentlemen kept aloof. The 
Bishop and the Dean fled, and when, on the day after his 
arrival, a solemn service of thanksgiving was performed, 
the Canons refused to attend the Cathedral. William him¬ 
self took possession of the Bishop’s throne, and Burnet 
preached a sermon, which was listened to in silence, but 
when, at the conclusion of the service, he proceeded to 
read the Prince’s manifesto, the greater part of those citi¬ 
zens who had ventured to attend hurried out in a panic, 
lest their presence at such an announcement should be 
accounted treason ; and when the zealous chaplain wound 
up the whole with a loud cry of “ God bless the Prince of 
Orange,” the voices which answered “Amen” came but from 
the humbler classes. And though, after a few days, one or 
two nobles and gentlemen of property reached Exeter from 
the more central counties, a week elapsed before they were 
joined by any of the Devonshire squires. 

Meanwhile the agitation had been great in London, and, 
as was natural, greatest of all in the palace and Council of 
the King. Of all the sentences in the Prince’s manifesto 
none had affected James so deeply as the allegation that he 
had been invited over by some of the Lords Spiritual and 
Temporal; for he knew well how sincerely loyalty to the 
Crown was regarded by the Churchmen as a religious prin¬ 
ciple; and, if a single Bishop had renounced it, he could not 
conceal from himself that his act would be the signal for a 
wide defection. As soon as the paper reached him, he sum¬ 
moned some of the Peers to his presence, and demanded of 
them whether they were among those alluded to. Compton, 


io6 The English Revolution. 

Bishop of London, who had signed the invitation, evaded 
the question; but Halifax, Clarendon, and Nottingham, as 
they had not done so, had no difficulty in denying it; though 
Halifax wholly denied any right to put such a question to 
him, and affirmed that, if he had invited the Prince over, 
he should, as a defendant on trial, feel justified in pleading 
Not Guilty. 

The next day James summoned a larger number. Though 
he refused to let them see the manifesto, he demanded that 
they should denounce it, and draw up a paper signifying 
their abhorrence of the Prince’s enterprise; and he pub¬ 
lished a proclamation in the Gazette denouncing the circu¬ 
lation, or even the perusal of the manifesto, as a crime liable 
to the heaviest penalties. On the day after William landed, 
the King once more summoned the Primate, the Bishop of 
London, and some of the other prelates, to his presence, 
produced the Prince’s declaration, bade them read it, and 
once more demanded of them a written disavowal of the 
Prince and his manifesto, which they declined to give. 
Bancroft said truly that he had known nothing of the invita¬ 
tion ; but that to meddle with the matter at all did not come 
within the sphere of episcopal duties. It belonged to the 
civil power, and with a submission that had in it as much 
sarcasm as might become a Bishop, he reminded the King 
that when once before he and some of his brethren had 
affixed their signatures to a political document of the most 
harmless kind, being but a humble petition to his Majesty, 
their act had been treated as a grave offence, the Attorney 
and Solicitor-Generals agreeing in the argument that out of 
Parliament they had no right to interfere in politics at all. 
James was by turns querulous, indignant, and peremptory. 
He expostulated, he reproached, he commanded, declaring 


The King collects his Forces. 107 

that he had a right to compel their assistance in whatever 
way he chose. They were equally steady in their refusal to 
sign such a declaration as he required. As Peers of Parlia¬ 
ment their best advice, they said, was at his service ; as 
Prelates of the Church he might command their most earnest 
prayers, but beyond this their duties did not extend. He, 
however, wanted neither the advice of Parliament, nor the 
prayers of Protestants ; and at last, after a long altercation, 
dismissed them with something like contumely. He would 
dispense with their aid, and rely on himself and on his own 
arms. 

Those arms were sufficiently formidable had they been 
really trustworthy. Lord Feversham, still, as in the days 
of Monmouth’s rebellion, Commander-in-Chief, was rapidly 
moving his troops westward, and had already collected at 
Salisbury a force much superior in numbers to that which 
was at Exeter, and many of the most powerful nobles were 
making great exertions in the Royal cause. Some, indeed, 
of whom James had thought himself sure, turned against him; 
the Earl of Abingdon, who three years before had shown a 
most loyal zeal in his behalf, now yielded to the conviction 
that his religion was in danger, and before the middle of 
the month repaired to William’s head-quarters ; but a still 
more powerful peer, the Duke of Beaufort, who was Lord 
Lieutenant of Gloucestershire, and who had great influence 
over all the eastern parts of South Wales, was exerting all 
his authority in support of the Crown. At the head of the 
militia of his county he attacked and defeated Lord Love¬ 
lace, who, with a well-equipped body of his retainers, was 
hastening to Exeter, defeated him and took him prisoner, 
and thus gave a severe blow to all William’s hopes of fresh 
adhesions from that part of the country. 


io8 The English Revolution. 

Lord Lovelace’s defeat, however, was counterbalanced by 
advantages gained by the Prince’s friends in other quarters. 
In those days events proceeded rapidly, and when they 
found that William had been able to maintain himself for a 
week at Exeter without any force marching against him, the 
Devonshire gentlemen began to flock to his standard. Sir 
Edward Seymour, one of the most eminent leaders of 
the Tory party in the whole kingdom, who in the reign of 
Charles II. had been Speaker of the House of Commons, 
was at their head. He brought not only eloquence, but 
also resolution and great practical ability to the Prince’s aid; 
and seeing that, as he expressed it, the assemblage at Exeter 
“ was as yet but a rope of sand,” he suggested to Burnet the 
drawing up what he called “ an Association,” a declaration 
that those who signed it would aid the Prince in the attain¬ 
ment of the objects for which he had himself come to their 
aid to the utmost of their power; and that, if any successful 
attempt should be made on his personal safety they would 
avenge him on all who perpetrated or had prompted such 
a crime. 

So many attempts at the Prince’s assassination were made 
in the course of the next few years, that this clause seemed 
to be dictated by an accurate foresight; though, in other re¬ 
spects, so far were those who signed the paper from foreseeing 
or desiring the course which events subsequently took, that 
many of them afterwards, when William was seated on the 
throne, refused to swear allegiance to him. At present no 
one refused his signature; and William had hardly become 
thus assured of the steady adherence of the civilians who 
had joined him, before Churchill’s efforts on his behalf began 
to produce their effect on the army. And the very first 
officer to desert the royal cause was a nephew of the King’s 


Lord Cornbury joins the Prince. 


109 


first wife, Lord Cornbury, the eldest son of the Earl of 
Clarendon. He was at Salisbury in command of a regiment 
of dragoons, and, being greatly under Churchill’s influence, 
had made up his mind to desert, when the accidental 
absence of all his superior officers suggested to him the 
idea of taking over not only his own regiment but all the 
rest of the cavalry to join the Prince. As he had not taken 
the precaution, or perhaps had not had any opportunity of 
preparing the men beforehand for such a step, many of them, 
as soon as they began to suspect his intention, turned back; 
but his own regiment adhered to him, and with them, and a 
troop or two from some of the others, he made his way to 
William; and his arrival in that camp greatly encouraged 
the Dutch counsellors of the Prince, who, from the slowness 
with which the country gentlemen joined them, had begun 
to despond, but who were now led, by the accession of so 
important a force, to place confidence in the assurances 
which had been given them of the favourable disposition 
of the army in general. 

To James, on the contrary, the event, as was equally 
natural, caused the deepest dismay; since, if he was thus 
deserted by one whom he might look upon as his own 
nephew, and whose father was still by his side, it became 
impossible to know in whom he could put his trust. At 
all events, he could not doubt that Cornbury’s treason 
was but the forerunner of others. And, in fact, the news 
of this defection, though but that of a single regiment, 
did prove a signal to numbers of those who had hitherto 
been hanging back, to declare themselves . 1 Many of the 

1 There is some uncertainty in the exact order of these events. Burnet, 
p. 790, says James was at Salisbury when Cornbury deserted, Cornbury, 
with the rest of the troops, having been sent “twenty miles further”—appa- 


110 


The English Revolution. 


chief gentry from Dorsetshire and Somersetshire hastened 
to Exeter, others took up arms in Cheshire and the Mid¬ 
land Counties; the Earl of Devonshire seized Nottingham 
and Derby. Lord Danby, at the head of a powerful body 
of horse, made himself master of York, raising the cry of 
“No Popery! a free Parliament;” and in most of these 
counties the leaders justified their insurrection by a declara¬ 
tion of their provocation and their object. The one was the 
contempt shown by the Government for the law and the 
Protestant religion; the other was the election of a free 
and independent Parliament; and a combination for these 
ends they denied to be rebellion, since the defence and 
maintenance of the law was manifestly self-defence. 

James was greatly disturbed, and showed the agitation of 
his mind by the inconsistency of his conduct. At one 
moment he behaved with calmness and dignity, seeking to 
tranquillize Lord Clarendon, who professed himself incon¬ 
solable for his son’s treason, by the assurance that he should 
not think the worse of the family in general for the crime 
of a single member of it; and he summoned the principal 
military officers then in London, and offered to release any 
from their oaths who might have conscientious scruples at 
fighting in his cause ; but he entreated them not to forfeit 
their honour as gentlemen and soldiers by treachery. But 
when, a few hours afterwards, a body of Peers, headed by 
the Primate, his brothers-in-law the Earls of Clarendon and 
Rochester, and the Duke of Grafton, the most distinguished 
of the natural sons of the late King, came to him with a 

rently to Blandford. Macaulay places James’s departure from London 
some days later. I conceive that Burnet is of course more to be trusted for 
a precise knowledge of what took place in William’s camp than in James's, 
but not for dates. 


Ill 


The King joins his Army. 

petition that he would summon a Parliament, and open a 
communication with the Prince of Orange, he lost all temper. 

A free Parliament, he declared, was impossible while an 
enemy was in the kingdom. The Primate, and Sprat, the 
Bishop of Rochester, who, having formerly been a member 
of the High Commission Court, seemed now anxious to 
efface the recollection of his servility by a show of inde¬ 
pendence, and had added his signature to the petition, he 
reproached with special bitterness : “ A few days ago they 
“ had refused to condemn the Prince’s invasion on the plea 
“ that they would not interfere in politics; but now they con- 
“ demned him, their King, and were ready to excite their 
“ flocks to disloyalty. And he declared that so far would 
“ he be from opening any communications with the invader, 
“ that, if the Prince should send him a message even under 
“ a flag of truce, the first messenger should be dismissed 
“ without an answer; a second should be hanged.” And 
then, as if to show how unchanged was his determination 
to set himself above the law, having resolved to leave Lon¬ 
don to put himself at the head of his army, he appointed 
a Council to carry on the departmental duties of the 
Government during his absence, two of whom were Roman 
Catholics, while a third was the hated Judge Jefferies; 
and he despatched the infant Prince of Wales to Ports¬ 
mouth, with the intention that Lord Dartmouth should 
convey him to France. 

On the 19th he reached Salisbury. Two days later the 
Prince also quitted Exeter, marching eastward as far as 
Axminster, and from thence, turning slightly to the north 
because the Dorsetshire downs would be favourable to the 
King, whose chief superiority was in cavalry, he advanced 
to Crewkerne, in Somersetshire. He was, above all things, 


1 12 The English Revolution. 

desirous to avoid a battle with his father-in-law, which, 
whatever might be the result, would have a somewhat un¬ 
natural appearance, and would be unpopular with many- 
even of his own friends; and the adoption of this line of 
march would enable him to pass by the King’s position, and 
also to secure the important cities of Bristol and Oxford. 
From the great University he received unexpected encour¬ 
agement James’s open attacks on its privileges and religion 
had produced its fruit; and, before William left Crewkerne, 
a deputation from the heads of colleges came to meet him, 
promising him their cordial adherence, inviting him to visit 
the City, and offering to place the college plate at his dis¬ 
posal, as they had before devoted it to the service of his 
grandfather, Charles I., if he should require it. 

With all his care and Schomberg’s skill it was imprac¬ 
ticable wholly to avoid a collision between the two armies ; 
though prudence on one side, and accident on the other, 
gave to the skirmish which occurred such a character that 
even those of the country people who wished best to 
James’s cause, yet at the same time rejoiced in the success 
of William’s soldiers. As he was marching in an array 
which could not but have a hostile appearance through 
England, William judiciously placed his English regiments 
in the van. James’s advanced guard was composed of 
Irish troops under the command of the single Irishman 
who made himself an honourable name in his service, the 
chivalrous Sarsfield, but his virtues were as yet unknown 
in England. And it so happened that a detachment of 
each force met near Wincanton. Though the Irish were 
by far the more numerous, the English were the more 
skilfully commanded ; the peasants sided with them, and 
perplexed Sarsfield’s officer with false intelligence. He 


Wavering of some of the Tories. 113 

was repulsed, and the affair, which, though but a brief and 
casual skirmish, was magnified by the sympathies of the 
country people into a glorious victoiy gained by their own 
countrymen over Connaught barbarians, greatly increased 
the general enthusiasm for the Prince’s cause. 

But it was not actions between handfuls of men, or even 
victory in a pitched battle, which could ensure the Prince’s 
success. James was strong enough to bear a heavy loss in 
the field, if he could only have trusted those who within 
the last week had pledged their fidelity to his service. But 
his very last acts had shown that his purpose to establish 
Popery and despotic authority was unchanged, and com¬ 
pleted the alienation of those who, perhaps, might still have 
hesitated to take so decided a step as that of deserting 
their colours, had it been possible for them to reconcile 
their loyalty with their regard for their religion. To many 
it was a cruel alternative that presented itself; nor was 
their final choice made without great reluctance, and scruples 
so sincere that at a subsequent period some of them par¬ 
tially retraced their steps. Others, however, wanted no 
additional provocation to lead them to act on the resolution 
which they had already formed, and the desertion of some 
was coloured with a studied and peculiar treachery, which 
has, unhappily, tarnished one of the most brilliant reputa¬ 
tions in our annals. 

Lord Churchill, as we have seen, had been for some 
time in communication with the Prince. Though in his 

extreme youth 1 he is said not altogether to have escaped 

/ 

1 Archdeacon Coxe, “Life of Marlborough,” c. i., has shown that the 
story of his connection with the Duchess of Cleveland, and of her liberality 
to him, is derived from the “New Atalantis ” of Mrs. Mauley, whose 
character is sufficiently notorious to excuse one from dilating on it; and 

I 


114 The English Revolution, 

the contagious dissipation of the age, he was nevertheless 
imbued with a firm attachment to his own religion; 
and, as soon as he became convinced that James was 
determined to crush the Church of England, he gave in 
his adhesion to the party which was formed to withstand 
his proceedings. Had he, as soon as he made up his mind, 
thrown up his command and crossed over to Holland, like 
Lord Devonshire; or joined him at Exeter, like Sir Edward 
Seymour, the stoutest Tory could not have reproached him. 
But he postponed his desertion till it would not only 
strengthen the invader, but also disable those whom he de¬ 
serted. James even believed that the advice which he gave 
him a day or two before his flight, to cross Salisbury Plain 
for the purpose of reviewing the troops at Warminster, was 
dictated by a consideration of the facilities which would 
have been found there for betraying him into the hands of 
the enemy at a small town close to their outposts ; though in 
that suspicion he was probably mistaken, as Churchill was 
too shrewd not to be aware that no event could possibly 
have been so embarrassing to the Prince as one which 
would have brought him into personal contact with the 
King. It was, in all probability, rather his object to fill 
James’s mind with false confidence by an exhibition of his 
strength in different quarters, and so to keep him deceived 
till the last moment. 

But events led him to precipitate his flight. In a 
Council of War, which was held in James’s presence on 
the 24th of November, Churchill’s opinion as to the 
operations which should be adopted was overruled, and 
he fancied that such a disregard of his judgment argued 

also that the Duchess was his cousin, a fact which might account for both 
the intimacy and the bounty. 


Lord Churchill joins the Prince . 115 

suspicion. He may have learnt that James had been 
warned against him, and had been recommended to place 
him under arrest. And his movements being quickened 
by personal irritation, that very evening he wrote a letter to 
the King, excusing himself for deserting his service, in spite 
of all the favours which he received and which he warmly 
acknowledged. “Nothing,” he declared, “but his deep 
conviction of his religious duty could have separated him 
from his Majesty’s side; and though he could not recon¬ 
cile it to his conscience to fight against the Prince, he was 
still as ready as ever to draw his sword in defence of the 
lawful rights and prerogatives of the Crown.” And then 
he took horse and rode off to the Prince’s camp, having 
persuaded the Duke of Grafton to accompany him. Graf¬ 
ton’s defection was of especial consequence, because, in 
addition to his military command, he was known to have 
great influence with the naval officers; and the next day 
James learnt that Captain Churchill, Lord Churchill’s 
brother, who commanded a frigate in Lord Dartmouth’s 
fleet, had also gone over to Admiral Herbert; and that 
Lord Dartmouth was assured that many others of his officers, 
though they shrank as yet from an act of open desertion, 
would refuse to fight against the Prince. 

James was panic-stricken. A day or two before he had 
resisted the urgent advice of his Council of War to seek 
out the Prince and give him battle, though it had been 
strongly pressed upon him, not only by Churchill, but by a 
great soldier whose fidelity was certainly open to no sus¬ 
picion, Lord Dundee. And these defections, with new ones 
of which every hour brought fresh intelligence, deprived him 
of all resolution. He returned to London, drawing back all 
his army to the line of the Thames, and sending orders to 

1 2 



ii 6 The English Revolution. 

Lord Dartmouth by Lord Dover, a Roman Catholic whom 
he had* lately raised to the peerage, to provide for the 
instant conveyance of the infant Prince of Wales to 
France. 

Heavier news attended his journey towards his capital. 
The Irish Duke of Ormond, as the heir of his father’s 
faithful and unwearied servant, might be looked on as the 
representative of the most unflinching loyalty of his country. 
The Earl of Drumlanrig, the eldest son of the Scotch Duke 
of Queensberry, might have been supposed to. be one on 
whom it was equally safe to rely; for the Duke was the 
bitter enemy of the Presbyterians in his own country, and 
the Earl himself was Lieutenant-Colonel of Lord Dundee’s 
regiment. The very day that James left Salisbury they 
supped with him at Andover; but, when he retired to rest, 
they too fled back to join the Prince; and they were 
accompanied by Prince George of Denmark, the husband 
of the King’s second daughter, the Princess Anne. Prince 
George was a dull, stupid man, utterly incapable of form¬ 
ing any resolution for himself, or even of appreciating 
the importance of one formed for him by others. And 
there can be no doubt that the course now taken by him 
had been shaped out for him by Churchill, whose wife was in 
constant attendance on the Princess Anne. Prince George 
himself was of no consequence beyond that which his 
rank conferred on him. He had earned the nickname of 
Est-il-possible : a brief sentence which was his only comment 
on the most important events. And when James heard of 
his departure the only remark which he condescended to 
make on it was “ Is Est-il-possible gone too ? a good trooper 
would have been a greater loss.” But it was hardly possible 
to suppose that his movements had not been concerted with 


The Princess Anne leaves London. 117 

his wife; and James might well fear that his flight was a fore¬ 
runner of hers. 

So, indeed, it proved. The news of Lord Churchiirs 
desertion reached London in the afternoon; that it had 
been followed by that of Prince George was known soon 
afterwards. Comments, which might easily be construed as 
threats, were freely made on their conduct by the Queen and 
those around her; and the sentries were doubled around 
that portion of Whitehall Palace which was occupied by 
Anne. It was known also that the King himself was on 
his return; and Anne was greatly alarmed. She had good 
reason to dread her father’s indignation; and in anticipation 
of his reproaches on her husband’s account, declared that 
she would leap out of window rather than venture to 
encounter him. Lady Churchill might well share her fears, 
and might fear for herself too, for some of her own acts 
might probably be regarded, without any great strain, as high 
treason; and James was not a Prince likely to show mercy. 
She persuaded her mistress to instant flight, and she herself 
contrived the means. 

She hastened secretly to the Bishop of London, and, 
having made her arrangements with him, at midnight she 
conducted Anne to his house, which was in Suffolk Street. 
Speed and secrecy were of such consequence that they did 
not venture to take with them a single article of clothes; 
but the Bishop conducted them to the Earl of Dorset’s. 
Lady Dorset furnished them with the requisites for a 
journey, and, at daybreak, escorted by the Earl and the 
Bishop, they rode off to another house of Lord Dorset’s in 
Epping Forest, from which they presently proceeded to 
Northampton. Not, perhaps, since the Archbishop of York 
had commanded Queen Philippa’s right wing at Neville’s 


118 The English Revolution . 

Cross had an English prelate been seen in military equip¬ 
ment ; but, on this emergency, Compton, who had been an 
officer in the Life Guards before he took orders, revived the 
ancient usage, donned his old uniform, and rode before the 
Princess’s carriage fully armed with sword and pistol. When 
on the afternoon of the 26th the King arrived in London, 
Anne’s flight was the first thing announced to him; it filled 
his cup of bitterness to the brim, and wrung from him a 
cry of anguish which no previous event had extorted. 
“ God help me,” said he, in the extremity of his despair; 
“ my own children have forsaken me!” 

The next day he held a Council, consisting of all the 
Peers, both Temporal and Spiritual, who were in London, 
and asked their advice; referring pointedly to the petition 
which had been presented to him just before he quitted 
London for Salisbury, and which then he had treated with 
so much contempt. Many unexpected events, he said, had 
taken place, and he had found everywhere that all classes 
seemed anxious for a Parliament What was to be done ? 
Lord Rochester, who had borne the principal part in 
drawing up that petition, could only repeat his adherence 
to its requests and recommendations, though he confessed 
a fear that compliance with them might now prove too late. 
Still the instant issue of writs for a Parliament, and a nego¬ 
tiation with the Prince of Orange seemed to him to be the 
only measures which could offer the least prospect of the 
extrication of the kingdom from its present evils. And he 
was seconded in his advice by others who had not signed 
the petition, even by Jefferies. 

There could be no doubt that Rochester was still honestly 
anxious to support and save the throne; but his brother, the 
Earl of Clarendon, seemed, from his language, as if he could 


Advice of Lord Halifax . 119 

no longer be safely reckoned on. Even Burnet describes 
his language as “ indecent, insolent,” and “ generally con¬ 
demned.” He inveighed against tyranny and Popery; 
affirmed that even now a regiment was being raised into 
which no Protestant was admitted, and accused James him¬ 
self of a want of hardihood in retreating from Salisbury 
without trying his fortune in a battle. But among the 
Peers were men less ungenerous than Clarendon, and more 
able than Rochester. The Marquis of Halifax, whose 
eloquence in the last reign had averted the Exclusion Bill, 
put aside the recollection of the ingratitude with which 
James had requited that great service, and with statesman¬ 
like wisdom and fearless candour, tempered with all possi¬ 
ble delicacy and consideration for the King’s distress, gave 
the only advice which could have saved the Crown. 

The part of a mediator between hostile parties was 
indeed one peculiarly suited to his disposition, for he was 
always an enemy to extremes. He now pointed out that 
the occurrences of the last fortnight had greatly changed 
the whole aspect of affairs; that an adoption of the 
counsels contained in the petition referred to, a consent 
to summon a Parliament, and to negotiate with the Prince 
of Orange, would no longer suffice. And he enumerated, 
as other measures necessary to be at once declared, an 
universal amnesty, the dismissal of all Roman Catholics 
from office, and an open repudiation of French counsels 
and the French connection. Lord Nottingham, whose 
Tory and monarchical principles could not be doubted, 
gave the same advice; but to James such counsels were as 
unpalatable as if they had come from the Whig camp. He 
consented indeed to summon a Parliament, and at once 
ordered the writs to be prepared, but at the same time 


120 The English Revolution. 

he denounced William’s conduct with great vehemence, 
saying that Lord Churchill had designed to put him into 
the hands of the Prince as a prisoner; and that, whatever 
might be the Prince’s professions, he aimed at nothing but 
the Crown. But, he added, he himself could penetrate his 
designs; he had read the history of Richard II., and he 
would not submit to be deposed in such a manner. At the 
same time he consented to treat with the Prince, and 
Halifax and Nottingham were themselves appointed as 
Commissioners on his side with Lord Godolphin, still the 
Queen’s Chamberlain and a Lord of the Treasury. 

But his real reliance was still on France. His favour 
for the Roman Catholics was as exclusive as ever; 
his desire to chastise those who had deserted him, and 
especially Lord Churchill, to whose treason and treachery 
he imputed the flight of his own daughter, was unquench¬ 
able. On these points he would that night make no con¬ 
cessions. The next day, he announced his willingness to 
concede them all; but his conduct in making this announce¬ 
ment, as also in promising a Parliament and in appointing the 
Commission to treat with the Prince, was, in truth, as base a 
perfidy as any of which he complained. He dismissed some 
Roman Catholic officers, especially Sir Edward Hales, who, 
as has been already mentioned, after his prosecution had 
been made Lieutenant of the Tower, and had availed him¬ 
self of his position to insult the seven Bishops while in his 
custody. He proclaimed a free pardon to all who were with 
the Prince; and at that very moment he was in reality 
studying to bind himself to France more closely than 
ever; he was more than ever resolved to trust none but 
Roman Catholics ; and above all things he was bent on 
revenging himself on those whom he was professing to have 


James relies on French Aid. 


12 I 


pardoned. He desired Barillon to explain to Louis that all 
these measures were but devices to gain time : that his first 
object was to place his wife and child in security; and that 
when they had escaped, then he was determined to quit 
England himself, taking his stand in Scotland or Ireland, or 
perhaps crossing over to France. A Parliament would be 
unmanageable. He could not trust one English regiment. 
The Irish troops were not numerous enough by themselves 
to withstand the Prince of Orange. His only reliance was 
on French aid. 

But he had hardly given utterance to these designs when 
he found that one portion of them at least was impracticable. 
From some delay which it is not easy to explain, it was not 
till the 2nd of December that Lord Dover reached the fleet 
at Spithead, carrying the King’s orders for the instant depar¬ 
ture of the Prince of Wales to France. Those orders Lord 
Dartmouth positively refused to obey. In a most respect¬ 
ful letter he explained to the King the reasons which 
influenced him. To place the infant Prince in the hands of a 
foreign Sovereign would be “ treason to his Majesty, and to 
“ the known laws of the kingdom; it would give the King’s 
“ enemies an advantage, though never so falsely grounded, 
“ to distrust his son’s just right. The people would (too 
“ probably) grow so much concerned, at this, his great 
“ mistrust, as to throw off their bounden allegiance. The 
“ Prince of Wales being sent to France could have no other 
“ purport than the entailing a perpetual war upon his nation 
“ and posterity, and giving France always a temptation to 
“ molest, invade, nay, hazard the conquest of England. 
“ He hoped, therefore, to be pardoned, if, on his bended 
“ knees, he begged of his Majesty to apply himself to 
“ other counsels. The most he could apprehend his Ma- 


122 The English Revolution . 

“ jesty might be jealous of, was the young Prince’s being 
“ brought up in the religion of the Church of England, 
“ and that ought (for his royal Highness’s sake especially) 
“ to be the prayer of every honest loyal subject. He there- 
“ fore most earnestly implored the King not to make him 
“ the unhappy instrument of so apparent a ruin to his 
“ Majesty himself and the country, and not to suffer it to be 
“ done by any other; for he could foresee nothing less from 
“ it than the putting in hazard both his Majesty and the 
“ Queen, and making England the most miserable nation in 
“ the world.” 

Even Lord Dover himself, though a Roman Catholic, con¬ 
curred in Dartmouth’s decision. And once more James 
had to alter his plans. The infant and his nurse were 
brought back to London, and, in order to lull suspicion, the 
writs for the promised Parliament were actually issued. 

But it was becoming harder and harder to keep the 
nation, and especially the Londoners, quiet. The citizens 
had been vehemently agitated ever since the first news of 
William’s landing had reached them ; and the suspense in 
which they had since been kept had increased the excite¬ 
ment, while each favourable event fomented their hatred of 
Popery. They began to show signs of an inclination to 
attack all the Roman Catholics. They broke into the houses of 
some of the most eminent Roman Catholic merchants. A 
proclamation, professing to have been issued by the Prince 
of Orange, but whose style at once proved it to be a forgery 
in the judgment of every one possessed of sufficient calm¬ 
ness to exercise a critical judgment, was eagerly circulated, 
merely because it denounced all Papists, and especially 
those who adhered to the King, as barbarians and robbers, 
and invited all honest Protestants to attack them. And 


Agitation in London . 


123 


even the Lord Mayor of London so far yielded to, or 
encouraged the general feeling, that without a shadow of 
pretext to justify such an act, he issued warrants to search 
the houses of Roman Catholics for arms. The storm was 
already brewing, which, a few days later, was to burst so 
heavily. 


124 


CHAPTER VII. 

Commissioners from the King reach William’s camp—Divisions among 
William’s adherents — William declares his willingness to trust the 
decision of all disputes to a free Parliament—Lauzun conducts the 
Queen and Prince of Wales to France—James flies from London— 
He is stopped on the coast—Resolution adopted by the Council of 
Peers—Lord Feversham disbands the army—Great riots in London 
—The Prince advances to Windsor—James returns to London—The 
Peers request James to withdraw from London—James flies to France. 

Meanwhile, from the most distant counties, intelligence 
was hourly arriving of fresh accessions of strength to the 
party of the invading Prince. The King’s statue was 
thrown down at Newcastle; the garrison of Hull made 
prisoner of their governor, the Roman Catholic Lord Lang- 
dale ; one peer in the Prince’s interest seized Norwich, 
another roused Worcestershire. In Bristol, in Gloucester, 
in Oxford, the Protestant cause was equally triumphant; 
and meanwhile William himself was advancing with 
leisurely pace towards Salisbury, and from Salisbury to the 
metropolis. At Salisbury he received a most significant 
omen of his eventual and complete triumph, in the arrival 
at his quarters of Lord Clarendon himself, who, but a week 
or two before, had been horror-stricken at his son’s deser¬ 
tion of the King, but who had thus soon learnt to follow 
his example. From Salisbury he bore up in a northerly 
direction to Hungerford, and at that small town, on the 8th 
of December, he met Halifax and his brother Commis- 


125 


The Conference at Hnngerford. 

sioners. Their first meeting was a singular one. They had 
desired a private interview, but he would only receive them 
at a public audience, and, when they had announced the 
proposals which they had been instructed to make, he 
declined giving any answer, but referred them to the 
English nobles and gentlemen by whom he was accom¬ 
panied. 

He even quitted the town and withdrew to Littlecote 
Hall, a country house in the neighbourhood, in order that 
he might leave the deliberations of his councillors the 
appearance of being unbiassed by his presence, though he 
reserved to himself the right of ultimate decision on the 
different matters that might be mentioned. He was acting 
with deep subtlety; his object was undoubtedly the attain¬ 
ment of the throne, but he was well aware that there were 
already two distinct parties among his followers, one of 
which, though as firm as the other in the resolution to with¬ 
stand the King’s violation of the laws and endeavours to 
exalt Popery, yet limited their views of opposition to putting 
such a constraint on him as should compel him to discard 
the evil counsellors to whose pernicious influence they 
attributed his errors, and would as yet have regarded, as 
to the last many of them did regard, his deposition as a 
sin against Heaven. The other party had no such scruples, 
if it may not even be said that they were inclined to wel¬ 
come an opportunity of showing their disapproval of the 
doctrine of divine indefeasible right, which had been so 
constantly inculcated by the courtiers ever since the acces¬ 
sion of the first Stuart; and William thought it far better 
for his own interest that the two parties should ventilate, 
and perhaps thus compose their differences in a discussion 
which should not be restrained by his presence, and the 


126 


The English Revolution. 


result was that he was enabled to place himself in a favour¬ 
able light as more inclined to amicable and moderate views 
than his advisers. 

The proposals which the King’s Commissioners had been 
instructed to make were, that all the matters in dispute, all 
the acts of which the malcontents complained, should be 
referred to the Parliament about to be assembled, and that in 
the meantime William should not advance his army within 
forty miles of London. The propositions seemed sufficiently 
reasonable, yet in William’s Council those who sought the 
King’s deposition were so superior in number to those 
who entertained a different view, that a majority resolved 
in rejecting them, and reported to the Prince their earnest 
advice that he should not consent to trust affairs to the 
decision of the new Parliament It was a selfish feeling 
that prompted this resolution, for its chief advocates were 
some of the Commoners who had been for some time ab¬ 
sent from their homes while attending the Prince, and who 
consequently despaired of securing seats in the House of 
Commons if an election were at once to take place; and 
the Prince, when their opinion was reported to him, declined 
to be bound by it. He saw that his own object could not 
be attained unless he established a character for modera¬ 
tion, and it was still more plain that persons who were 
complaining of infractions of the Constitution, could, in 
consistency, seek for no other than a constitutional remedy. 

He therefore overruled his friends, though they pressed 
their views with great pertinacity, and determined that the 
answer to be given to the King’s Commissioners should 
express a willingness to agree to their proposals, with a few 
additions ; of which the most important were, that, as he 
was to be bound to keep his troops at a distance from 


Proposals of William. 


127 


London lest they should seem to overawe the Parliament, 
James, for the same reason, should consent to withdraw his 
Irish regiments to an equal distance ; and that, if the King 
and he himself should desire to be present in London 
at the meeting of Parliament, they should each have an 
equal body-guard. It might not have been unreasonable 
for James’s envoys to object to this provision as offensive 
and inadmissible; since it certainly implied an equality 
between the King and the Prince; while another stipula¬ 
tion, that the King should not seek to introduce any 
French troops into the kingdom, was probably more really 
at variance with the King’s feelings and schemes, though it 
was one to which he would have found it impossible to raise 
even a plausible objection. William also varied the form of 
the answer, which, according to the draft of his councillors, 
would have seemed to proceed from himself alone; but he 
chose that it should appear to be their work as well as his; 
to be, as it were, the joint answer of himself and the Council, 
since, as he laid it down, he had come to relieve the people 
of England according to their own desires and on their own 
principles. 

But James never waited to receive the answer. His 
fears led him to take the exact course which those in the 
Prince’s confidence and interest most desired. Lord 
Halifax had, by the express command of the Prince, who 
had good reason not to trust too much to his chaplain’s 
discretion,- been refused a private interview with Burnet; 
but at one of the public receptions he had found oppor¬ 
tunity for a hurried conversation with him. “What,” he 
asked the busy Churchman, “did the Prince’s partisans 
“ really seek ? Did they wish to have the King in their 
“ power ? ” “ By no means; they should not know what to 


128 


The English Revolution. 

“ do with him, and no one wished to harm him.’ 7 “What, 77 
asked Halifax, “if he were to go away?” “Nothing,” 
replied Burnet, “ could be so desirable. 77 And this very 
course, which his enemies most wished, but to which none of 
them could have driven him, James now took of his own 
accord. On the 6th of December, the very day on which 
his Commissioners reached Hungerford to wait for Wil¬ 
liam, the little Prince of Wales was brought secretly back 
to London. While William was discussing with his Council 
the reply to be given to them, a distinguished French 
noble, by marriage nearly allied to Louis himself, but to 
whom that alliance had as yet brought nothing but loss of 
Court favour, was conducting the Queen and her infant son 
to France; and the moment that James received intelligence 
of their embarkation having been safely effected, he began 
to prepare for his own flight. 

Nothing could change his purpose. It had no weight 
with him that, at the same time, he received letters from 
Halifax and his brother Commissioners, announcing that the 
answer to his proposals would be favourable. A panic, 
equally unkingly and impolitic, had taken entire possession 
of his mind; and, as if his duplicity and preference for 
falsehood were ineradicable, he was as resolved to signalize 
his flight with needless bad faith as to fly. Once more 
he summoned a Council, in which the Lord Mayor and 
Sheriffs of the City were included; he exhorted them to dis¬ 
charge their duties as faithful councillors of the Crown, and 
vigilant guardians of the public peace; and assured them 
that though he had thought it best, while an armed enemy 
was in the country, to place his wife and heir in security, he 
himself would stay among them, and trust his own honour 
and safety to their loyalty. 


yantes leaves London. 


129 


He even imposed on his most confidential ministers; told 
the Lord Chamberlain that he had good news from Hun- 
gerford; bade the Lord Chancellor attend him at an early 
hour on the morrow; and, soon after midnight, quitted 
the palace by a secret passage; crossed the Thames in a 
small boat; with a childish hope of embarrassing those 
whom he left behind, he threw into the river the Great Seal, 
which he had ordered Jefferies to leave in his chamber, for 
the express purpose of making away with it; found a carriage 
ready equipped on the Surrey side; and drove with all 
speed to Sheerness, where a vessel was waiting for him, in 
which he hoped, before night, to reach the French coast. 

Fortunately for him, if his pertinacity in folly had not 
baffled all the endeavours of Fortune to save him, that hope 
was for the moment disappointed. He succeeded, indeed, 
in getting on board the ship; but the wind was so fresh 
that the captain hesitated to put to sea: and, before he 
consented to weigh anchor, the command was taken out of 
his hands. Garbled and imperfect intelligence of what 
was taking place in London had reached the district; it 
was understood that the Roman Catholics, and especially 
the priests, were fleeing from London ; and when it was 
also learnt that some well-dressed strangers had recently 
gone on board the craft which was seen to be preparing to 
get under way, a body of fishermen from the neighbouring 
villages, at all times a rough and unmanageable body, 
boarded her, and compelled the King, whom they mistook 
for the Jesuit Father Petre, with his attendants, to go on 
shore. There he was presently recognized. Some of the 
Kentish gentlemen gathered round him to protect him and 
set him at liberty. But at first he seemed utterly broken in 
spirit; while he was believed to be Petre, he had been 


130 


The English Revolution. 


somewhat rudely handled; had been robbed of his purse 
and watch; and he burst out from time to time into child¬ 
ish lamentations ; sometimes muttering to himself a saying 
of his father, that “ the distance was short between the 
prison of a King and his grave;” at others, loudly declar¬ 
ing that the Prince of Orange was thirsting for his life, and 
begging for a boat to regain the ship, and resume his flight. 

But after a while he grew calmer. When he was first 
brought on shore, he had found time and means to write a 
brief note to acquaint any one to whom it might be de¬ 
livered, that he was in “ the hands of an insolent rabble.” 
And the letter was brought to London to the Council of 
Peers, who, on the first intelligence of his flight, had taken the 
government upon themselves. They instantly despatched 
Lord Feversham with a detachment of Life Guards to ensure 
his safety ; and the sight of the gallant troops restored him to 
a sense of what was due to his dignity, revived his courage, 
and disposed him to entertain wiser counsels. He sent 
Lord Feversham back with a letter to the Prince, in which 
he announced that he should instantly return to Whitehall, 
and invited William to a personal conference ; placing St. 
James’s Palace at his disposal as a temporary residence ; and 
after resting a night at Rochester, drove back to London, 
from which he had been absent five days. 

But, short as the period of his absence had been, it had 
been long enough to inflict almost irretrievable injury to his 
cause, and certainly to show him the extreme impolicy of 
his flight, and to warn him never to repeat it. It had alien¬ 
ated almost all those who had hitherto been his staunchest 
friends. His brother-in-law, Lord Rochester, advised the 
Duke of Northumberland, who commanded a troop of Life 
Guards, to call his soldiers together, and at once to declare 


A Council of Peers is summoned. 131 

for the Prince ; Halifax, who, to contempt for the King’s 
pusillanimous folly united a keen indignation at having 
been mocked by being sent on an idle commission to Hun- 
gerford, henceforth directed all his efforts to place William 
on the throne. Many even of those, with whom loyalty was 
a principle of religion, were of opinion that, by departing or 
intending to depart from the kingdom without making any 
provision for a regency during his absence, James had re¬ 
signed his office, and released them from their allegiance. 
And San croft, who, as Primate, was at the head of the 
Peerage, summoned a Council of Peers, who speedily drew 
up and published a declaration, that all hope of a peace¬ 
ful redress of grievances and of a restoration of the public 
tranquillity by the authority of Parliament had been extin¬ 
guished by the King’s flight. That, therefore, they had all 
determined to join the Prince of Orange for the security 
of the liberties and religion of the nation. And, promising 
liberty of conscience to all Protestants of every denomina¬ 
tion, they announced that, till the Prince should arrive, they 
took on themselves the responsibility of the Government. 
And they sent a copy of the declaration to William, with an 
entreaty that he would hasten with all speed to London. 

The line of conduct thus announced by them cannot be 
denied to have been not only wise and constitutional, but 
indispensably necessary. Plow necessary, a very few hours 
gave fearful proof. They proceeded to regulate those 
matters which they regarded as most pressing, to displace 
some of the Roman Catholics who were in high office, 
and to send down orders to Lord Dartmouth to abstain 
from acting against William’s fleet. But there was a nearer 
danger which, as they did not foresee it, they did not pro¬ 
vide against. When the King quitted Whitehall he left a 

k 2 


132 


The English Revolution. 


letter for Lord Feversham, which that nobleman understood, 
no doubt correctly, as an order to disband the anny, and 
on which he instantly acted. The order was dictated by 
the same impotent spite which had prompted James to make 
away with the great seal, a malicious desire to throw every¬ 
thing into confusion. And it was more practically mis¬ 
chievous, for the disappearance of the soldiers, of the sen¬ 
tries who kept guard over the most conspicuous objects of 
public importance, the palaces, the Treasury, the Tower, 
seemed as if it had been intended to take off all restraint 
from the lawless mob, with which every great city abounds, 
and even to add to its strength by recruiting them with the 
disbanded soldiers, thus suddenly deprived of employment. 

Nor were agents wanting to stimulate them by false intelli¬ 
gence and cunningly devised incentives to outrage. Letters 
were circulated announcing that Irishmen and Papists were 
preparing to massacre all the Protestant citizens; and, though 
no one knew the writers, the contents were alone sufficient 
to ensure them a wide belief. The memory of the Irish 
massacre in 1641 had not yet wholly died away. A similar 
rising of the Papists in London was, in spite of all pro¬ 
bability, or even possibility, expected or pretended to be 
expected. The cry of “ No Popery” was raised, as it was 
raised with equal groundlessness nearly a century afterwards ; 
and, under cover of religious zeal, all the rabble of the city 
rose at once, committing all sorts of outrages. They pulled 
down Roman Catholic chapels, monasteries, and convents; 
burnt the furniture and libraries; and carried the holy 
vessels, the pictures and images, in derisive triumph through 
the streets. They paid no respect to the privileges of the 
foreign ambassadors : one or two, the French ambassador 
and the Venetian envoy, had obtained a guard of soldiers, 


Seizure of Jefferies. 


133 


who set the mob at defiance; but the houses of the Spanish 
ambassador, and of the other envoys of Catholic States 
who had not taken that precaution, were stormed, sacked, 
and burnt. 

In one instance the fury of the populace found a victim, 
in avenging themselves on whom they had the sympathy 
of better men. Jefferies had fled the moment that his 
master’s protection was withdrawn; and, having disguised 
himself as a collier, was lurking in a low ale-house at 
Wapping, when he was recognized by a man who had once 
been brought before him, and who had then declared that 
he could never forget the savage ferocity with which he had 
been treated. He now gladly pointed him out to the ruffians 
who were straggling in every direction in search of plunder, 
but who left even the pursuit of booty to revenge them¬ 
selves on one whom they regarded as a common enemy of 
all, and whose seizure might perhaps atone for other offences 
against the law. They dragged him into the street, where 
the rage and violence of the populace, who spared neither 
abuse, missiles, nor blows, was such that he could hardly 
be saved from their hands. 

But at last the train bands delivered him, and he was 
brought before the Lord Mayor, who paid a most extra¬ 
ordinary tribute to his prisoner’s former power. His worship’s 
nerves were not good ; and seeing a man before whom all, 
whether guilty or innocent, had so lately trembled, now 
brought before him as a criminal, he was seized with a fit 
which presently proved mortal. But his death was no benefit 
to the wicked judge. The Lords of the Council committed 
him to the Tower, to which a vast mob accompanied him 
with execrations and threats ; and there, in the spring of the 
next year, he died; partly of disease, and partly, it would 


134 


The English Revolution. 

seem, of terror and misery, from the universal detestation of 
which he received almost daily proofs ; though to the last he 
declared that the reproaches which were heaped upon him 
for his cruelty were undeserved, since he had but obeyed 
the most peremptory orders from the Court, and had even 
incurred the displeasure of James for too great an inclination 
to show mercy. 

The despatch from Sancroft and the other peers found 
the Prince still at Hungerford. He instantly prepared to 
hasten to London ; and, expressing the greatest indignation 
at Lord Feversham for his disbandment of the army, en¬ 
trusted Lord Churchill and the Duke of Grafton with the 
task of calling all the English soldiers back to their standards. 
The Irish he refused to re-enlist; but promised them good 
treatment if they gave up their arms. He himself could 
march but slowly, and had only reached Windsor when he 
learnt that James was still in England ; and presently Lord 
Feversham arrived with the King’s letter. He was greatly 
disconcerted ; for his hopes of attaining the throne de¬ 
pended on the King’s flight. It was plain that the difficulties 
of his own position were greatly complicated by the King’s 
return to London. He at once ordered the arrest of Fever¬ 
sham, on the plea, which was not very sustainable, that, as 
the general of a hostile army, he required a safe-conduct, 
and sent an envoy of his own with an answer to the 
letter, in which he declined the conference to which James 
invited him, and desired that his Majesty would remain at 
Rochester. He was'- already assuming the attitude of a 
conqueror ; and his object evidently was that James should 
be terrified into resuming his flight. But James was already 
in London, where the changeable and impulsive populace 
had greeted him on his return with seemingly sincere accla- 


James summons a Privy Council. 135 

mations. The women prayed for him, and wept with joy as 
he passed; the men followed his coach with cheers, and in 
the evening the whole city was brilliant with bonfires . 1 

Like other weak men, James was as easily elated as he 
was easily depressed; and elation but increased his natural 
obstinacy. The greetings of the mob, though not one 
citizen of respectability was seen in it, convinced him that 
he had still the hearts of the people; and, full of this confi¬ 
dence, he at once summoned a Privy Council; where, in spite 
of the ominous scantiness of the attendance, he held as 
high language as ever, justifying all his acts, with the excep¬ 
tion of his treatment of Magdalen College, which he seemed 
to admit had been over-hasty; and even censuring severely 
Sancroft and his brother peers for daring to assume the 
government in his absence without his authority. But pre¬ 
sently, when the Prince’s envoy, Baron Zulestein, arrived 
with his answer, and the refusal of a personal interview, he 
relapsed into the extremity of irresolution, alternating with 
despair. At one minute he proposed to take refuge in the 
City; the next he complained that nothing was left for him 
but a renewal of flight; though, as he said at the same time, 
he knew that to drive him to that was the chief aim of his 
enemies. 

William, on his part, also held a Council of those who 
had joined him ; inviting them to consult on the conduct to 
be observed towards the King now that he had returned ; 
and, as at Hungerford, abstaining from being present at 
their deliberations, from a politic desire to represent himself 
still as only their instrument for securing the public interests. 
It was soon seen that, on one most material point, their 

1 Macaulay questions the sincerity of the joy, but Burnet and Lord 
Clarendon are very positive and clear on the point. 


136 


The English Revolution. 


judgment coincided with his wishes. Zulestein had declared 
to the King that the Prince would not come to St. James’s 
while any troops remained in London which were not under 
his own orders. And the Council at Windsor, having made 
Lord Halifax their chairman, decided, as the first point, 
that it would be wholly incompatible with the public tran¬ 
quillity and safety, that two who could hardly be regarded in 
any other light than that of hostile, or, at least, rival princes, 
should be established with their separate guards and parti¬ 
sans in two neighbouring palaces. 

They were equally convinced that it was desirable for 
William to accept the invitation which had been sent to him, 
and to repair to the capital; and they therefore determined 
to request the King to withdraw to Ham, near Richmond, 
where the Duke of Lauderdale had a fine house which could 
be placed at his disposal. Some proposed a far harsher 
treatment of him; and it is remarkable that among them were 
some whose Tory principles were most opposed to any 
resistance to royal authority, and who even, in the end, re¬ 
fused to take the oath of allegiance to William while James 
was alive. Yet they now did not hesitate privately to 
represent to William that it would be dangerous to leave 
him at liberty; that the only way to secure the Protestants in 
Ireland would be to make him, as it were, a hostage for their 
safety; and that, though it would not be easy nor prudent 
to keep him as a prisoner in England, he might be sent to 
Holland and detained at Breda without difficulty, till all 
affairs in these kingdoms had been put on a stable footing. 

To this advice, however, William, though owning the 
solidity of the reasons on which it was founded, altogether 
declined to listen. He was certain that his wife, the 
Princess, would never endure that such a restraint should 


James retires to Rochester . 


137 


be put upon her father by her husband, nor could he think 
it a becoming part for himself, while it was by no means 
certain that it would be acceptable to the nation or to the 
Parliament. He replied, therefore, that he could consent 
to nothing but the request to be made to his Majesty 
to withdraw from London; and said that he should even 
order a guard to attend him, with a charge to protect 
him from insult, but to put no constraint whatever on his 
movements. In truth, it was for his interest to leave the King 
free, since his one desire was that James should renew his 
flight, but that all men should see that it was his own 
voluntary and deliberate act; and James, with incredible 
fatuity, was already resolved to gratify him. 

On the morning of the 18th, Halifax, with two other 
nobles, arrived from Windsor, with the request that the King 
would fix his abode at Ham ; and his answer was that he 
should prefer returning to Rochester. William’s consent was 
gladly given to such an arrangement. But the report of it 
struck terror into the minds of all James’s friends. That his 
preference for Rochester over Ham was dictated solely by 
the consideration of the facilities which it would afford for 
crossing over to France, was evident to all; and several of 
the nobles, among whom were some of the Bishops whom he 
had so shamefully prosecuted in the summer, entreated him to 
change his purpose, urging that to quit the country would be 
ruinous, not only to his own cause, but to the tranquillity of 
the kingdom * and that it would also be very contrary to 
the feelings and wishes of the great majority of the nation. 
One peer even urged him to call around him the soldiers 
whom Feversham had disbanded, and who had not been 
re-enlisted, and with them to fall on the Dutch troops, 
who were so widely dispersed in their different quarters 


138 The English Revolution. 

as to make it probable that they might be easily over¬ 
powered. 

Bewildered as James was, and obstinately as he was wont 
to adhere to a plan when he had once formed it, he can 
hardly have failed to see the force of these arguments, or the 
vast difference between the ease of retaining power which 
he possessed, and recovering it after he had resigned, or 
even seemed to resign it. But he persisted in returning to 
Rochester; and, if the remonstrances and entreaties thus 
pressed upon him, and repeated by frequent messengers and 
letters during the next two or three days, induced him for 
a moment to waver in his resolution to pass over to France, 
his hesitation was but temporary. He had conceived the 
most absurd and groundless fears that his life was in danger; 
and the Queen, who had been imbued with his alarms, wrote 
him “ an earnest if not imperious ” 1 letter, claiming his 
flight as the fulfilment of a promise made to herself. The 
letter was intercepted and brought to William, who at once 
forwarded it to Rochester; but even this proof of William’s 
anxiety that he should quit the kingdom failed to detain 
him. That he was disarming his friends and playing into the 
hands of his enemies he could not doubt; but fear prevailed 
over every other consideration, and, on the evening of the 
22nd of December, he resumed his attempt to fly, copying 
his conduct of eleven days before with singular and dis¬ 
creditable minuteness. 

Once more he made his pusillanimous act still more 
ignominious by wanton and needless deceit of his followers. 
That very evening some gentlemen of sense and influence 
had arrived from London bringing him fresh letters of 


1 They are the expressions of Burnet, who, perhaps, had seen the letter. 


James flies to France. 


139 


entreaty that he would by no means quit the kingdom, 
which they seconded by information and remonstrance 
of their own. He read the letters ; listened to the advice ; 
promised to take both into his consideration, and to discuss 
the matter with them in the morning ; and, having thus 
got rid of them, he pretended to go to bed. But as soon 
as he had dismissed his personal attendants he dressed him¬ 
self again; and accompanied by his natural son, the Duke of 
Berwick, a promising youth of eighteen, who had only that 
evening joined him from Portsmouth, he stole down to the 
shore and embarked in a vessel which was waiting for him. 
Good care had been taken by William’s partisans that no 
one should stop him again. The captain at once set sail 
without the slightest hindrance, and reached Ambleteuse, on 
the French coast, in a few hours. 


140 


CHAPTER VIII. 

William reaches London—Invites the Peers and chief Commoners to a 
conference—The Peers request the Prince to take the government on 
himself for the present, and to summon a convention—Differences of 
opinion in the nation—The convention meets January 22, 1689— 
An Association for self-defence is formed in Ulster by the Protestants 
—Discussion in the House of Commons—A resolution is agreed to 
by the House of Commons—Keen debate on every clause of the 
resolution in the House of Peers—A conference between the two 
Houses is held—James sends a letter to the convention—Feelings of 
the Prince and Princess of Orange—The Prince and Princess are 
invited to accept the crown—The Declaration of Right is framed by 
the Commons—The Princess reaches England—The two Houses 
present the crown to the Prince and Princess February 13, 1689. 

Meanwhile the Prince was in London, prosecuting his 
objects with great energy and sagacity, and steering his way 
with a judgment that never went astray between the conflicting 
counsels of the different parties among his followers. James 
had quitted London for the last time on the morning of the 
18th. On the afternoon of the same day William arrived in 
the capital, where, though the weather was wet and stormy, 
he was met by as large a concourse of people, and 
was greeted by cheers as loud, and illuminations and bon¬ 
fires as general, as had hailed the return of the King the 
week before. He drove at once to St. James’s Palace, 
which he had selected for his residence; and in the evening 
he held a Court which was numerously attended by all the 


William, reaches London. 


141 

principal nobles and men of influence who were at the time 
in London. 

The next day he received addresses from different bodies ; 
from the Aldermen and Common Council of the City; 
from the clergy, who were headed by nearly all the 
Bishops; from the Nonconformist ministers of the capital; 
from the lawyers, one of whom replied to one of his 
observations in a sentence which has often been quoted, 
and which in a few words contains the whole justifica¬ 
tion of the Revolution. Almost half a century before, 
Serjeant Maynard had aided, as one of the counsel for 
the Commons, in conducting the impeachment of Strafford; 
he had had the honour of incurring the marked displeasure 
of Cromwell, who had twice sent him to the Tower; of 
refusing a seat on the bench from Charles IJ.; and of send¬ 
ing back in the past summer a brief which had been meant 
to secure his services in the prosecution of the Bishops. He 
was in his eighty-seventh year when he now headed the 
deputation from the Inns of Court. The Prince, who was no 
stranger to his character, received him with especial gracious¬ 
ness : “ Mr. Serjeant/’ said he, “ you must have outlived all 
the lawyers of your time.” “ Yes, please your Highness,” 
replied the old man;' “ and, if your Highness had not come 
over, I should have outlived the law itself.” 

And indeed he would have outlived the law if William 
had taken the course which some of his exulting partisans 
recommended; for they advised .him at once to seize on the 
Crown, claiming it by right of conquest; and such a claim 
so enforced would for the moment have abrogated all law. 
But he was far too politic, and too careful of appearances, 
to take such advice; it was not only that to have done so 
would have been to falsify all the professions of the Declara- 


142 


The English Revolution. 


tion which he had issued, and, in all probability, to arm 
against himself a large section of the nation whose acquies¬ 
cence in his domination could only be won by the most 
careful management, but whose pride would at once be 
roused to resistance by a claim so offensive, and so devoid 
of all foundation in fact. 

He had declared that his sole object in invading England 
was to preserve and uphold the laws and Constitution 
of England, and, by his profession of a resolution to refer 
the redress of all the evils complained of to Parliament, 
he had clearly implied a conviction that Parliament was , 
fully able to remedy them without trenching on the legiti¬ 
mate authority of the existing sovereign. Undoubtedly 
he did hope, and from the first had hoped, that the 
course of events would transfer the Crown from the 
head of James to his own; but it was equally undoubted, 
that, if it were to be peacefully worn, it must be because 
the nation had given it to him, not because he had seized 
on it. He therefore at once rejected all such intemperate 
and unwise counsels, and determined that every measure 
which was adopted should bear the appearance of having 
been devised by the legitimate councillors of the Crown, and 
not by himself. 

One important difficulty stood in the way of all proceed¬ 
ings, that, except the King, there was no one who had 
authority to summon a Parliament. But so careful was 
William to avoid the slightest appearance of usurpation, 
that he would not take upon himself to supply even that 
deficiency. He did, indeed, invite all the Peers in London 
to meet him at St. James’s on the morning of the 21st, but, 
when they had assembled, he pursued the same course which 
he had adopted before at Hungerford, and left them to 


Proceedings of the Peers. 


143 


deliberate together without the restraint of his presence. 
They determined that they would meet the next day in the 
House of Lords to take into consideration the state of the 
nation; and, by their advice, the Prince issued also a notice, 
inviting all those Commoners who had sat as representatives 
of the people in any Parliament of Charles II. to attend 
him on the 26th. 1 

On the Saturday the Peers adjourned till Monday, and, 
when on that day they came together, they had to con¬ 
sider matters under a new aspect, for the news of the 
King’s second flight had reached London on the preceding 
evening. There was therefore now no recognized Govern¬ 
ment in the island ; and, instead of arranging a negotiation 
with the King, while still in the neighbourhood of his capital, 
they had to take instant steps to supply the want caused by 
his departure, without any appointment of a deputy or 
Regent. 

He had, indeed, left a letter with Lord Middleton, the 
Secretary of State, but even his friends did not press for its 
production; one Peer did move that it should be sent for 
and read, but when Lord Godolphin, who had seen it, con¬ 
fessed that it was of an unsatisfactory character, the proposal 
was dropped. Lord Clarendon, too, brought forward a motion 
that the meeting should inquire into the birth of the Prince 
of Wales, which was rejected with something like contempt; 
and another Peer, who had not hitherto taken any active 
part in politics, Lord Paget, advanced an opinion which was 
countenanced by some lawyers, and was warmly supported 

1 Hallam (chap. III. p. 125) says that to the old members of the Parlia¬ 
ments of Charles II. were added 50 members of the Common Council, 
with the Lord Mayor. But he gives no authority for this statement, which 
is not corroborated by either Burnet’s History or Clarendon s Diary . 


144 


The English Revolution. 

in the subsequent debates, that the King’s “withdrawing 
from the country was a demise in law,” 1 and therefore he 
moved that the Princess Mary should at once be proclaimed 
Queen. 

This, however, though he was supported by Bishop 
Compton, was also rejected; and, in the end, it was decided 
that the meeting should request the Prince to take upon 
himself the administration of the Government for the 
present, and to address a circular letter to all the counties, 
cities, and other places which had a right to return members 
to the House of Commons, requesting them to send repre¬ 
sentatives to a Convention, to be held at Westminster before 
the end of the next month. The name Convention was the 
same that had been given to the two Houses which restored 
Charles II., which, like the assembly now to be convened, 
had been summoned without the royal authority; but the 
same precedent showed that the acts of such a body so 
assembled would have all the validity of the enactments of 
a regular Parliament. It has been remarked that the Peers 
presented their address to the Prince without waiting for the 
concurrence of the Commons, who did not meet till two 
days later. But William abstained from giving any formal 
reply till the Commons also had agreed to a similiar resolu- 


1 This opinion was maintained by Pollexfen, the same lawyer who had 
been one of the Bishops' counsel, as early as December 15th, while the 
King was still in England. On that day he told Lord Clarendon, “he 
wondered the Prince had done no more. That the King by withdrawing 
himself had left the Government; that he had made a cession, and for¬ 
feited his right; that his being now at Feversham, though he should come 
back to London, signified not a rush; that the Prince of Orange had 
nothing to do but at the head of his army to declare himself King, and 
presently to issue writs for the calling a Parliament according to Cromwell’s 
model." It was a curious precedent to recommend, but Macaulay says 
Pollexfen was “ at heart a Whig, if not a Republican.” 


Measures taken by William . 


145 


tion; then he at once declared his compliance with their 
request; issued writs summoning a Convention of both 
Houses, and in the meantime assumed the executive 
authority. 

* 

It was an arduous task that he took upon himself, for the 
events of the last few weeks had thrown every department 
of the Government into confusion. The army, which had 
been disbanded, was straggling in want and disorder over 
the country; the fleet was discontented partly at the recent 
changes, and still more, perhaps, at their pay being in 
arrear. The Exchequer was almost empty. From the finan¬ 
cial difficulty the City of London relieved him by advancing 
^200,000 for the public service; and his own moderation, 
which was seen to proceed not from weakness or timidity, 
but from firmness and resolution, found a remedy for other 
pressing evils. 

Arrangements were made for transferring the Irish soldiers 
to the service of the Emperor, while the recruiting of the army 
in the English counties was pushed on with energy. Lord 
Dartmouth was removed from the command of the fleet, and 
the sailors were pacified by promises of immediate payment. 
The Roman Catholics received assurances that they should 
be protected from all annoyance; and Burnet was sent to 
some of their priests, who had been thrown into prison, with 
instructions to promise them indulgent treatment and an 
early liberation. But many were still greatly discontented, 
whose dissatisfaction was likely to prove more embarrassing 
than the murmurs of the seamen, or the complaints of the 
Papists. Many even of those who had joined the Prince 
were displeased at the treatment which the King had 
received since his return from Rochester. His second 
flight had evidently not been as spontaneous as his first. It 


146 The English Revolution. 

was undeniable that he had been driven from his own 
palace at Whitehall, 1 and equally clear that there had been 
an intention to terrify him into leaving the kingdom; and 
many saw, in these things, a design on the part of William 
to advance himself, or, at least, to leave the nation no alter¬ 
native but that of advancing him. 

The existence of this feeling was no secret to the Prince’s 
friends, nor to the Prince himself Burnet, knowing that he 
was believed to stand high in William’s confidence, endea¬ 
voured to allay it by asserting his knowledge that “ the 
“ Prince was so far from ambition that he would not take the 
“ title of King though it should be offered to him.” But he 
himself was too cautious to discourage his friends by any 
such disclaimer, though at the same time he clearly saw the 
precarious character of his popularity, and he warned some 
of his own countrymen, who were dwelling with exultation 
on the fervour with which the Londoners had received him, 
that the very same people who cried “ Hosannah ” to-day, 
might, perhaps, be equally loud in crying “ Crucify him ” to¬ 
morrow. 

The 22nd January, 1689, was the day appointed for the 
meeting of the Convention, and during the earlier days of 
the month the nation was fully occupied with the election of 
representatives. William, with a moderation which was not 
more wise than singular in one who was aspiring to win a 
Crown, it may, perhaps, also be said with a well-informed 
confidence in the sentiments of the great majority of the 

1 "Sir E. Seymour then talked very freely to me upon the state of public 
" affairs : he said all honest men were startled at the manner of the King’s 

" being sent from Whitehall.That men now began to think 

" that the Prince aimed at something else ; if he did not find him upon the 
" bottom of his Declaration it would be impossible for honest men to serve 
" him."—Lord Clarendon’s Diary, January 1, 1869. 



Election of the Convention. 147 

electors, carefully abstained from allowing any of the 
Government officials to endeavour to influence the electors. 
To the validity of the authority which he hoped to obtain, it 
was, above all things, essential that no one should be able to 
deny that the representatives who were sent to the House of 
Commons spoke the unbiassed sense of the nation. Long, 
however, before the elections had terminated, it was known 
that a great majority of those who had been returned were 
Whigs, such as he himself would have desired; resolved to 
vindicate for ever the supremacy of the old Constitutional 
laws over the will of any one individual, even if he were the 
sovereign; and convinced that the establishment of that 
supremacy was impossible if James remained on the throne. 

There were other parties also, no one of which, how¬ 
ever, was very formidable in numbers, though they con¬ 
tained many of known integrity and conspicuous ability. 
Some believed in the practicability of imposing condi- 
tions on James so stringent as to be beyond his power 
to break through ; others doubted the right of the people 
to impose any limitation whatever on the exercise of his 
prerogative, and thought that the only legitimate course was 
to request him to return and resume his authority, trusting 
that the lessons as to the feelings of the nation which 
recent events had taught him, would lead him to abandon 
those pretensions which had been resisted, and, he might 
be sure, would be resisted again. A fourth endeavoured 
at once to avoid deposing him, and yet to escape any longer 
submitting to his arbitrary will, and proposed that the title of 
King should be preserved to him, but that a Regency should 
be appointed to govern in his behalf as if he were a lunatic. 

And with these political differences, religious differences 
also were largely mixed up, with, in some instances, a 

l 2 


148 


The English Revolution. 


counteracting effect. The Presbyterians and other Non¬ 
conformists were almost unanimous in their zeal for the 
elevation of William. But*, of the Churchmen who held the 
same views, many were very little inclined to work with such 
associates. They still remembered the wrongs and miseries 
of the rebellion, and, attributing them almost wholly to the 
Presbyterians, refused to believe that they were capable of 
loyalty to any sovereign. They were jealous, too, of the 
favour with which the Prince had received addresses from 
some of the Nonconformist bodies, and doubted whether 
the Church of England would be entirely safe in his hands; 
and each party laboured diligently during the interval before 
the meeting of the Convention to gain converts to their views, 
by daily discussions, and by pamphlets, which had of late 
come to be recognized as powerful instruments of political 
warfare, but which had never before been employed in such 
abundance or distinguished by more powerful ability. 

How close the contest was likely to be in the House of 
Peers may be judged from the circumstance that during the 
first three or four days after the Convention met, the Pre¬ 
lates who officiated read or omitted the prayer for King 
James, according to their own bias, till at last Lord 
Halifax, who desired its omission, was driven to the 
strange and unseemly expedient of causing the House to 
be opened without prayer at all as the only means of pre¬ 
venting some of the Bishops from reading the prayer in 
spite of him. The division between the parties would have 
been closer still, if James himself had not, with an obstinate 
fatuity which is almost incredible, contrived to exasperate 
his enemies still more, and to disarm his friends almost at 
the very moment of the first meeting of the Convention. 
He sent over a letter addressed to the Privy Council, and 


Meeting of the Convention. 


149 


countersigned by Lord Melfort, as if on purpose to show 
that that nobleman, who had originally earned his goodwill 
and the hatred of all his subjects by exchanging Pro¬ 
testantism for Popery, was now his confidential minister. 
The letter itself was understood to be even more offensive* 
than the signature, so that Lord Preston himself, to whom 
it had been forwarded for delivery, and who was still faithful 
to the interests of his old master, thought it best to suppress 
it; but the knowledge that such a letter had been sent 
could not fail to do James harm, and to weaken his sup¬ 
porters. 

The eventful day, the 22nd of January, arrived; both 
sides mustered in strength, though all the efforts of those 
who were conscientiously averse to the nomination or 
recognition of any other King during the lifetime of James, 
failed to induce the Primate to attend. Lord Halifax was 
appointed Speaker of the House of Peers. Mr. Powle, 
member for Cirencester, who in the reign of Charles II. had 
distinguished himself as one of the most strenuous advocates 
of the Exclusion Bill, and had been Chairman of the meeting 
in December, became Speaker of the Commons; a choice 
very significant of the views of the majority of that House, 
as the order of the proceedings which should be adopted 
was understood to be of the inclinations of both Houses. 

Some Tory members in the Commons contrived that the 
28th should be fixed by them as the day on which they 
would take into consideration the state of the nation, 
hoping, as was supposed, that before that day the Lords 
would have passed some resolution which should be not 
incompatible with the preservation of James’s authority, and 
which should also, in some degree, hamper the Commons 
and prevent them from adopting a vote of a different 


150 The English Revolution. 

tenor; but Halifax, who had abandoned all idea of 
saving James, ever since his efforts as a mediator and 
peace-maker had been nullified by his treacherous flight, 
carried out even while the Marquis was executing his 
commission, saw through this manoeuvre ; and determined 
that the Commons, as more immediately the representatives 
of the people, should be the first to declare their opinion. 
Being Speaker of the House of Lords, he could not, with 
propriety, himself make a motion to that effect, but he 
instigated the Earl of Devonshire to do so. The Earl, who 
had more straightforwardness than tact, provoked some 
needless hostility to his proposal, by alleging as his reason 
for the postponement of the consideration of the state of 
the nation by the Peers till the 29th, that “they might, by 
“ that time, be able to gather some lights from below, which 
“ would be of use to them.” But the motion was carried, 
and both sides waited impatiently till the opening of the 
next week. 

The agitation increased. Those who hoped to place 
William on the throne were encouraged by an address 
which, on the 25 th, was brought to the Prince from the 
leading noblemen of several counties in Ulster, who had 
formed an association for their defence against the Irish (as 
they expressed it), and who represented in warm terms how 
imminent was the danger to which they were exposed. On 
the other hand, those who were unfavourable to the Prince, 
with the Earl of Clarendon at their head, endeavoured 
to place obstacles in his way, by exciting against him the 
jealousy of the Princess Anne ; whose right to the throne 
in the event of her sister’s death, was undeniable; and who 
would clearly be most unjustly treated’if William were 
preferred to her without her consent. But though, while 


Conduct of the Commons. 151 

Clarendon was urging his arguments on her and her hus¬ 
band, they declared that they would never agree to be set 
aside, Lord and Lady Churchill had an influence over them 
greatly superior to his, and had little difficulty in obtaining 
from the Princess that consent which she had declared to 
her uncle that she would never give. 

On Monday the 28th, the Commons, in pursuance of 
their vote of the preceding week, resolved themselves into 
a Committee of the whole House, to take the state of 
affairs into consideration. The first, and most important 
question manifestly was, whether the royal authority should 
or should not be preserved to James. It can hardly be 
said that this point was debated; so evident was the feeling 
of an overwhelming majority that he should no longer be 
King. The idea of a Regency was mentioned, only to be 
summarily discarded. A proposal for an adjournment, 
which seemed as if intended to give time for some nego¬ 
tiation, met a similiar fate. The real question was, what 
grounds should be alleged for refusing any longer to ac¬ 
knowledge James as King; and this was debated with great 
historical learning, deep knowledge of Constitutional law, 
and the keenest subtlety of argument. 

One party seemed to have such a feeling of the desirable¬ 
ness of a revolution, as to wish to found the step which they 
were about to take on principles which should lay a founda¬ 
tion for future revolutions. Another party desired to make 
as little revolution as could be consistent with a change of 
the Sovereign, and therefore to base their proceedings on 
acts and reasonings not likely to be drawn into a precedent- 
The first, therefore, wished to establish the principle that 
James had forfeited the throne by misgovernment. The 
other argued, that he had voluntarily ceded the throne by 


152 


The English Revolution. 


his flight from the kingdom. And the real debate was raised 
on the point whether misgovernment could forfeit the 
Crown; whether a King on his accession had entered into 
such a contract with his people to govern according to law, 
that a violation of that contract absolved his subjects from 
their allegiance. The lawyers had little difficulty in proving 
this point. They showed from the old records that William 
the Conqueror, before he was received as King, promised to 
keep the laws of Edward the Confessor. That promise had 
been renewed by more than one of his successors; so, too, 
had the Great Charter been granted by John, and been 
confirmed by kings subsequent to John. 

What was even more to the purpose was, that later records, 
such as the rolls of Parliament, showed that, for violations 
of these laws and this Charter, Edward II. and Richard II. 
had been formally deposed. Nor had the legality of these 
depositions been ever questioned. The arguments to prove 
that James’s violations ok the law had been sufficient to justify 
them in applying these precedents to his case were hardly 
so strong; they rested this part of the case on his having 
made a treaty with Rome ; on his having unsettled the whole 
system of government and property in Ireland, so as to put 
the English settlers and the Protestant religion in that king¬ 
dom in the power of the Irish and the Papists ; on his exercise 
of the dispensing power, which he had so stretched as to 
take away not only the laws to which it was applied, but 
all other laws whatever, by the precedent which it estab¬ 
lished ; on his having invaded the liberty of the Church 
by his ecclesiastical commission; and, finally, on his having 
deserted his people and fled to a foreign land. But some 
of these acts were clearly not illegal, and could hardly be 
branded with any harsher term than impolicy; others were 


i 53 


Resolution of the Commons. 

rather strainings of prerogatives admitted to exist, but never 
before so extensively applied, nor wrested to objects so un¬ 
palatable, 1 than distinct and tangible violations of the letter 
of the law; while undoubtedly no law of any country so 
fettered the Sovereign’s movements as to make an occasional 
and temporary quitting of it a crime. 

The truth was, that the King’s criminality was made up 
of a number of small offences against the spirit of the Con¬ 
stitution, from which, when taken together, a resolution to 
render his power absolute, and to trample on the chartered 
rights of his people, was legitimately inferred. The eager¬ 
ness for despotic authority was, moreover, rendered the more 
intolerable by the object for which it was manifestly sought, 
the re-establishment of Popery ; and it was felt, even 
more strongly than it was argued, that there could be no 
safety for either the civil or religious rights of the subject 
under a King whose notions of his lawful power were such 
as had been asserted by James, and who was unalterably 
resolved to exercise it as he had exercised it. Still those 
who admitted the conclusion were far from being agreed 
upon the premises; and the resolution which was eventually 
moved and adopted showed in a curious manner the neces¬ 
sity which its framers felt of uniting all parties. It affirmed 
“ That King James II., having endeavoured to subvert the 
“ Constitution of the kingdom by breaking the original con- 
“ tract between King and people, and by the advice of Jesuits 
“ and other wicked persons having violated the fundamental 
“ laws, and having withdrawn himself out of his kingdom, 

i “The judgment in favour of his (James II.) prerogative to dispense 
“ with the test was far more according to received notions of law, far less 
'' imperious and unconstitutional, than that which gave a sanction to ship- 
“ money.”— Hallam, vol. III. p. 114, Ed. 1832. 


154 The English Revolution . 

“ has abdicated the government, and that the throne is 
“ thereby vacant.” 

This resolution the Commons passed without a division. 
The next morning it was sent to the Lords, who followed the 
example of the Commons in resolving themselves into a 
Committee of the whole House, but who were by no means 
inclined to pass the resolution as a whole, by a single vote. 
They determined to debate it clause by clause. But the 
Earl of Danby was hardly put in the chair before another 
resolution was brought up to them by which the Commons 
had voted that it was inconsistent with the welfare and 
safety of the nation to be governed by a Roman Catholic 
King. This seemed to render much of the former resolu¬ 
tion superfluous, since it led directly to the deposition of 
James for a reason not included in that resolution. And to 
the contract between King and people, the existence of 
which was affirmed in it, it added a stipulation which had 
certainly never been in it before. 

It might, perhaps, be fairly argued that it was implied in 
the Test Act, since, if it were dangerous to allow a Roman 
Catholic to be an officer or a magistrate, it was still mere 
dangerous to allow one to be the head of all officers and 
magistrates ; but it certainly had never been expressed, and 
it was an adoption of the principle of that Exclusion Bill 
which, in the preceding reign, the Peers had rejected. 
However, this second vote was adopted by the Peers without 
discussion or demur. And it apparently contributed to 
another question also being taken into consideration before 
they proceeded to dissect and decide on the great resolu¬ 
tion ; for the Tory Peers were willing to acquiesce in James 
being deprived of the reality of power, provided the name 
of King were left to him; and therefore insisted that the 


Debate m the House of Lords . 155 

next matter to be determined was, whether it might not be 
a sufficient security for freedom to appoint a Regent who, 
during the King’s lifetime, should exercise the kingly power 
in his name. 

This plan, which, as we have seen, had been summarily 
rejected by the Commons, had been devised by the Primate ; 
but he still kept aloof from the House, and the task of 
advocating it fell on others, on Lord Nottingham, who made 
the formal motion that a Regency should be established; on 
Lord Godolphin; and, above all, on Lord Rochester, who 
marshalled and enforced all the arguments which could be 
adduced for it with great earnestness and eloquence. They 
were, however, but few, and those weak. Its advocates 
appealed to texts in St. Paul’s epistles, which, it was con¬ 
tended, laid down the duty of non-resistance, and enjoined 
the Romans to submit to Nero. They drew a distinction 
between the authority of the Sovereign and his person. 
They compared James, by reason of his perverseness, 
superstition, and obstinacy, to a lunatic, who had become 
incapable of managing his own affairs; and to Henry VI., 
who had fallen into a state of imbecility; and contended 
that therefore a Regent might be appointed to govern for 
him as the Duke of York had governed for Henry, and 
as guardians in numberless instances for lunatics. And, 
finally, they argued that such a course as was now recom¬ 
mended would save the consciences of those who had 
taken the oath of allegiance to James, and who could 
not, without perjury, during his lifetime, transfer their 
allegiance to another King, though nc such guilt would be 
incurred by acknowledging the authority of a Regent. The 
last argument was, perhaps, the weakest of all; for how could 
it be pretended that the allegiance promised was not equally 


156 


The English Revolution. 


violated by obeying a Regent in opposition to the King, as 
by obeying another King ? To affirm this was to justify and 
imitate the conduct of the leaders of the Rebellion of 1642, 
who made out commissions in the King’s name to fight 
against him. It was the sophism of a casuist rather than 
the reasoning of a statesman. But the arguments of Lord 
Halifax and Lord Danby, who were the most eloquent 
advocates of the resolution of the Commons, were of a more 
practical character. 

Every instance in our history proved a Regency to be a 
weak government, though in none had there been a divided 
or rival authority; in the last case, the successive Regents 
during the minority of Edward VI. had notoriously each in 
his turn enjoyed the full favour and approval of the youthful 
King. But a Regent who was to govern in the name of a 
King who was of full age, who protested against his original 
appointment and against every one of his acts, and who 
would unquestionably have many partisans within the king¬ 
dom to support his protests, would find himself in a situation 
of helpless embarrassment. There would in effect be two 
kings at the same time; one having the title without the 
power, the other the power without the title ; and each, from 
the very nature of his position, inevitably and unalterably 
hostile to the other. Nor did there seem any probable end 
to this embarrassment. It could not be expected that there 
would be only one Regency. Both Houses had just agreed 
that no Roman Catholic sovereign should ever govern the 
kingdom. But the infant Prince of Wales, if his legitimacy 
were once admitted, would eventually succeed to his father’s 
title; and would certainly be educated in the Roman 
Catholic faith; so that, until the whole male line of the 
Stuarts became extinct, there would be a constant necessity 


157 


Debate on tJie Title of King. 

for a series of Regents; each of whom must be appointed 
by Parliament, an arrangement which would practically be 
tantamount to an elective monarchy. 

Another most cogent argument for the appointment of a 
new King was found in the statute of Henry VII. which 
secured from all punishment, and from all accusation of 
treason, any one who should obey “ the King and Sovereign 
Lord of this land for the time being.” So that those who 
should submit to the Prince of Orange, as bearing the title 
of King, would be protected, if the King should succeed 
in recovering his authority; but no such defence could be 
pleaded to a charge of obeying a Regent in opposition to the 
commands of the only King. The position of the Regent 
himself would also be less safe, since a conspiracy against 
such an officer would not involve the guilt of treason. Nor 
was the appointment of a Regent in the least more con¬ 
sistent with the oath of allegiance which had been taken to 
James, than the appointment of a new King; for the oath 
of allegiance certainly bound men to preserve to James not 
only his title, but his prerogative and power; and to transfer 
these to a Regent was as clearly a violation of that oath as 
the transference of his title. The oath was conditional on 
the King’s respecting his people’s rights and the established 
laws, and the mutual obligation was compared to that sub¬ 
sisting between husband and wife, where the violation of 
the marriage vows on one side was held to justify the release 
of the other. If the King broke the condition on his part, 
the subjects were released from their obligation. But they 
could not be released in part; they must be released wholly 
or not at all. 

The debate lasted the whole day, the division not being 
taken till 8 in the evening, when it appeared that, though the 


158 The English Revolution. 

preponderance of argument was great on the side of the 
Whigs, yet so strong was the Tory party in the House, that 
in a House of 100 Peers, the majority against the Regency 
was only 2. Had the Primate attended, the decision would, 
in all probability, have been different. The next day the 
Lords proceeded to discuss the resolution which had been 
sent up from the Commons. The clause which recognized 
a contract betwen the Sovereign and the people as the 
foundation of the Monarchy was stoutly contested, for it 
was admitted that no law or charter contained an express 
mention of it; but it was argued fairly that it was implied 
in every legal government, and that the whole series of our 
annals proved that the nation had at all times given its 
obedience in consideration of the laws being confirmed and 
preserved; and, finally, a majority of 7 carried the clause. 
Against the assertion of James’s misgovernment, not one 
Lord raised his voice. But the statement that, by quitting 
the country, he had abdicated the Government met a 
different fate. It was contended that the expression im¬ 
plied an intention to resign, which notoriously had not been 
entertained by James, and the Peers were almost unanimous 
in preferring to allege that he had deserted the Govern¬ 
ment. 

This was but a verbal dispute, but the debate the next 
day turned on a point of the greatest practical importance. 
The votes already passed had decided that James was no 
longer King. The question arose whether it followed from 
this fact that the throne was vacant. On the decision of 
this point it depended whether the two Houses had a right 
to fill up the vacancy ; or whether, at the very moment that 
James ceased to be Sovereign, by abdication, or by desertion, 
or in consequence of the votes which had just been passed, 


Debate in the House of Lords . 159 

his next heir succeeded to the throne. And on this point 
those who had carried the House with them in the previous 
divisions, Lord Halifax and Lord Danby, differed; Lord 
Danby affirmed that the fundamental maxim of our Mon¬ 
archical law was, that the throne was never vacant; but that 
the moment of the termination of one reign was also the 
moment of the commencement of another. And, passing 
over altogether the Prince of Wales, either as spurious or 
as incapacitated by the vote which excluded all Roman 
Catholics from the succession, he inferred that at the instant 
when James had ceased to be King, the Princess Mary 
had become Queen, by her own right of birth; that this was 
proved by the words of the oath of allegiance which bound 
those who took it, not to the King alone, but to his heirs 
and successors also. And that to say the throne was vacant 
even for an instant was to make it elective like the 
sovereignty of Poland. 

Halifax, on the other hand, argued that, if the King’s con¬ 
duct dissolved the tie between his subjects and himself, it 
also dissolved it between them and his posterity. That an 
heir was one who succeeded to a dead person. No man 
while alive cpuld have an heir. If the King’s misconduct 
had released his people from their obligations to him, it 
must have also put them in a state in which they had a 
right to secure themselves for the future; and the security 
to which they were entitled must be a real, not an apparent 
security. He therefore supported the clause which asserted 
the vacancy of the throne, with the avowed intention of fol¬ 
lowing it up by another resolution to place the Prince of 
Orange on it; not concealing his opinion that the fact of 
his not being the next heir was a positive recommendation, 
since it would for ever extinguish the idea of hereditary in- 




160 The English Revolution. 

defeasible right, and those claims to absolute power which 
depended on the existence of such a right. 

The debate was long and vehement. Some of those who 
favoured the opinions advanced by Halifax, but who 
despaired of carrying them in the face of Danby’s opposi¬ 
tion, suggested a middle way; the omission of the state¬ 
ment that the throne was vacant, and the substitution of the 
words “ that the Prince and Princess of Orange be declared 
King and Queen.” To declare that they were so, was 
clearly a very different thing from appointing them. But 
this peace-making alternative was rejected, though by no 
greater majority than 5 ; and then the vote was taken on 
the original question, and the clause declaring the throne 
vacant was rejected by 14. It was a vote which, as 
even those who had carried it could not fail to perceive, 
was full of embarrassment; for by it the two Houses were 
placed in opposition to each other, and both, as well as the 
people out of doors, were greatly agitated. 

To the populace the expedient of declaring the Prince 
and Princess joint sovereigns was the most acceptable, and 
a large body of the lowest citizens signed a petition to both 
Houses to do so; but no party in either House would 
tolerate the dictation of the populace in so grave a matter, 
the decision of which they rightly felt belonged to them¬ 
selves alone. According to the rule in all cases of difference 
between the two Houses, it had become necessary that a con¬ 
ference should be held between them, unless one or the other 
would give way. It was soon seen that neither would yield. 
On the 2nd of February the Commons resolved to adhere to 
their resolution, that the throne was vacant. On the 4th the 
Peers resolved to insist on their amendments; a renewal of 
the discussion in the Commons led to the same conclusion, 



News of William. 


161 


but, before the conference could take place, such revelations 
of the feelings and intentions of all the principal parties 
concerned were made as greatly smoothed the way for a 
peaceable and harmonious agreement; James, as if he had 
been resolved to make it impossible for any one to take his 
part any more, sent over another letter in the place of that 
which Lord Preston had wisely suppressed; 1 and though 
this also was put aside unread by both Houses, it was known 
to be countersigned, like the former, by the obnoxious Lord 
Melfort; and it was also known that, even while inviting 
the Convention to return, to its dutiful allegiance to him, it 
breathed vengeance against the leaders of the Revolution. 

But a knowledge of the feelings of the Prince and of the 
Princess was still more important for the solution of the 
present difficulty. William had given no indication of his, 
and the Princess was still in Holland. One of the Prince’s 
confidential friends, when pressed on the subject, did venture 
to say that his own conjecture was that “the Prince would 
not like to be his wife’s gentleman usher,” or, in other words, 
would not be willing that she should be declared sole sove¬ 
reign, as Lord Danby was well known to be inclined to 
propose. But still there was a formidable party desirous to 
press her claims, till Burnet, who had formerly had an 
opportunity of learning her feelings with respect to a contin¬ 
gency that then seemed more probable, divulged to some 
of the leaders that she had resolved, if ever she should 
succeed to the throne, to resign the power, with the consent 
of Parliament, into her husband’s hands. Such a course she 

i Macaulay speaks of one letter—Lord Clarendon’s Diary, January 19th, 
February 2nd, seems to prove that there were two—the second being pro¬ 
bably a repetition of the former, which, as Clarendon says, January 19th, 
Lord Preston, by the advice of friends, “ quashed.” 

M 



162 The English Revolution. 

- conceived to be prescribed by a wife’s duty. And at the 
same time she herself, on learning the view of her rights 
which Danby was inclined to take, wrote a letter to that 
nobleman to remonstrate against being set up as a com¬ 
petitor to the Prince. 

William also himself at last broke through the reserve 
which he had hitherto maintained, and, though with studied 
moderation, avowed the object at which he aimed. He 
sent for some of the principal peers, to whom alone he 
seems to have thought it becoming to unfold his views, 
and told them that, though they were certainly at liberty to 
establish a Regency, he would not consent to be the Regent; 
that, if they should make the Princess Queen, he would not 
occupy a subordinate post, nor take any share in the 
Government; that if they should decide on offering him 
the crown, he would accept it, but otherwise he would 
return to Holland. The only limitation of the ordinary 
rights of a King to which he would submit was, that if the 
Princess, his wife, should die childless, the Princess Anne 
should have a prior right of succession to any children 
whom he might have by any other wife. 

He had so far the game in his hands that, after this 
declaration, it was plain that the Houses had no alternative 
but that of naming him King. One question still remained, 
whether he should be the sole Sovereign, in which case the 
Princess would be only Queen Consort; or whether she 
should enjoy equal rank as Queen Regnant. Halifax, feeling, 
as a statesman, that a divided authority was full of danger, 
recommended the former course, proposing to place the 
Princess next in succession to him ; but he found the general 
feeling of the party so unfavourable to placing Mary in a 
lower rank, when her right, so far as it depended on birth, 


Conference of the two Houses. 163 

was incontestably superior to that of her husband, that, after 
a long and angry discussion, he withdrew his proposal. 
Accordingly it was settled that the arrangement which should 
be recommended to the Commons was that the Prince and 
Princess should be joint sovereigns, of equal rank and 
dignity; though the administration, as the Princess herself 
preferred, should be entrusted to William alone. And while 
these discussions were going on, Lord and Lady Churchill 
so worked on the Princess Anne that she consented to waive 
her pretensions during William’s life, on condition that, if 
her sister should leave no heirs, the succession, after his 
death, should be secured to herself and her children. 

All difficulties being now thus smoothed away, on the 
6th of February the important conference between the 
two Houses took place on the two amendments of the 
Lords which had substituted the word “ deserted ” for 
“abdicated,” and which had rejected the clause declaring 
the throne to be vacant. The first question turned on a 
difference so purely verbal, and so devoid of practical im¬ 
portance, that it was argued very briefly. Mr. Somers, who 
conducted the legal argument on behalf of the Commons, 
contenting himself with one or two quotations from foreign 
writers on Constitutional law to justify the use of the 
term “ abdicate ” in the sense in which it was employed in 
the resolution. The second opened considerations of far 
greater moment. Whether it were in accordance with our 
national law and Constitution to affirm that the throne could 
be vacant, if only for a single moment, was a question which 
affected the very character of the Sovereignty. It affected 
our past history; it must affect our future history. The 
Commons produced one precedent which, if admitted, was 
decisive. The Parliament roll of the year 1399 expressly 


164 


The English Revolution. 


stated that the throne was vacant during the interval between 
the resignation of Richard II. and the acceptance of the 
Duke of Lancaster as King; and recorded the act of the 
Estates of the Realm, when they admitted the validity of 
the claim preferred by the Duke, and “ consented that the 
said Duke should reign over them.” 1 The Lords, in reply, 
produced a later roll, that of the first year of the reign of 
Edward IV., which showed that the record of 1399 had 
been annulled. But that act of Edward’s Parliament had 
in its turn been abrogated in the first year of the reign of 
Henry VII., so that the roll of 1399 was restored to, and 
remained in, its original force. 

The Conference being over, the Lords once more took 
the two questions into consideration. A few peers, who 
could not reconcile it to their consciences to join in the 
resolution which they were now aware would be carried, nor 
yet to their conviction of what the safety of the nation required 
to oppose it, absented themselves, but still the number that 
attended was greater than on any previous occasion. The 
expression “ abdicated ” was replaced in the resolution with 
scarcely a dissentient voice. By sixty-two votes to forty- 

1 Hume’s comment on these transactions, c. 17, is, “The unanimous 
voice of Lords and Commons placed Henry on the throne; he became 

King, nobody could tell how or wherefore.And as a 

concern for the liberties of the people seems to have had no hand in this 
revolution, their right to dispose of the Government, as well as all their 
other privileges, was left precisely on the same footing as before.” But 
Hallam [Middle Ages, c: viii. p. 3) points out that, “in this revolution of 
1399, there was as remarkable an attention shown to the formalities of the 
Constitution, allowance made for the men and the times, as in 1688.” And 
he proceeds to call the two Houses in reference to their votes by which 
Henry was accepted as King “ the Estates of the Realm’’ (which, indeed, 
was the name they gave themselves), and afterward a “Convention,” because 
“ upon the cession of the King, as upon his death, the Parliament was no 
more.” 



165 


Alteration in the Oath of Allegiance . 

seven it was voted that the throne was vacant. But against 
the proposal to declare the Prince and Princess King and 
Queen of England, no one called for a division, and it 
was carried with apparent unanimity ; many, no doubt, 
not liking the measure in their hearts, but acting on the 
principle by which the Earl of Thanet justified his vote to 
Lord Clarendon: “ He thought they had done ill in admit¬ 
ting the monarchy to be elective ; for so this vote had made 
it; but he thought there was an absolute necessity of having 
a government, and he did not see it likely to be any other 
way than this.” One concession was made to those who 
shared his feelings, in the adoption of a motion made by 
Lord Nottingham for such an alteration in the wording of 
the oaths of allegiance and supremacy as might enable that 
party to take them without scruple. 1 

The first resolutions had been first passed by the Com¬ 
mons, and then sent up to the Lords. The last, declaring 
the Prince and Princess King and Queen, reversed this order, 
and, having been carried by the Lords, required the accept¬ 
ance of the Commons. The Commons never doubted the 
propriety of accepting it; but, as an unconditional vote to 
that effect might have seemed to confer absolute authority 
on the new Sovereigns, or at least to leave the extent of 
their prerogatives, and consequently the degree of liberty 
belonging to the people, unsettled, they, with a sagacity 
which, on this occasion, the Peers had failed to exhibit, re- 

i The alteration consisted in expungingthe words “rightful and lawful,” 
as a description of the Sovereigns, because in them “a previous title 
seemed to be asserted.” “ It was therefore said that these words could not 
be said of a King who had not a precedent right, but was set up by the 
nation. So it was moved that the oaths should be reduced to the ancient 
simplicity of swearing to bear faith and true allegiance to the King and 
Queen.”— Burnet, p. 825. 





166 The English Revolution. 

solved to precede their acceptance of it by some measure 
which should extinguish for ever all doubts on these all- 
important subjects. A very little consideration showed that 
to pass such a number of separate acts as would be required 
to prevent a recurrence of the grievances which had been 
complained of, would require a far longer time than could 
be allowed; for every circumstance of both domestic and 
foreign policy imperatively required that the inauguration of 
the new Government should be immediate. 

But it was justly thought possible so to embody all the 
chief requirements of the nation in one large resolution that 
the rights of the new Sovereigns and of all their successors 
might be inseparably connected with, and made dependent 
on, the preservation of the rights and privileges of their 
subjects. With this view, a Committee was appointed by 
the Commons, which, under the presidency of Mr. Somers, 
speedily framed a “ Declaration of Right,” which should 
serve as a basis for future formal legislation. It recited 
the grievances of the late reign; the arbitrary acts of the 
late King; his contempt for and violations of the ancient 
laws of the kingdom; his consequent abdication. It 
enumerated those fundamental principles of the Constitu¬ 
tion, as laid down in the ancient charters, that no king 
could dispense with the established laws without the con¬ 
sent of Parliament; that no sovereign could levy money 
which had not been granted by Parliament, nor maintain a 
standing army by his own authority ; and that Parliaments 
should be held frequently. Other clauses asserted the right 
of the subject to petition the King for the redress of griev¬ 
ances, the right of members of Parliament to freedom of 
speech, with other privileges of minor importance ; and 
the last clause of all embodied the resolution of the Peers 


The Crown is conferred on William and Mary. 167 

that the Prince and Princess of Orange should be declared 
King and Queen of England for their joint and separate 
lives, and settled the succession first on the posterity of 
Mary, next on the Princess Anne and her children, and, 
after them, on the posterity of William by any other wife. 

It is remarkable that in this great Declaration no mention 
was made of the resolution to which both Houses had lately 
come, that the profession of the Roman Catholic religion 
should disqualify any one from succeeding to the throne. 
Nor did the Lords take notice of the omission, but, on 
Monday, the nth, passed the Declaration with a few verbal 
amendments. 

The same evening the Princess, who had been detained 
for some days in Holland by foul winds, reached the English 
coast. Her vessel sailed up the Thames, and the next 
morning anchored at Greenwich. On the morning of the 
13th, she with her husband held a grand Court in the 
noble banqueting-house of Whitehall Palace. A large body 
of Peers, headed by the Marquis of Halifax, and a still 
larger number of the House of Commons, headed by the 
Speaker Powle, came forward; and Lord Halifax, speaking 
for the whole Convention, prayed their Highnesses to hear 
the Declaration of Right, which had been agreed to by both 
the Houses. It was read by the Clerk of the House of 
Lords; and then Halifax preferred a second request, that 
their Highnesses would accept the Crown in accordance with 
the concluding terms of that Declaration. William in a brief 
speech “ thankfully accepted/' for himself and the Princess, 
what the Estates of the Realm offered them; promised to 
guide his conduct by the laws, to study in all matters to 
promote the welfare of the kingdom, and constantly to seek 
the advice of both Houses of Parliament. The members 






168 


The English Revolution. 

of both Houses retired, descended into the Court-yard of 
the Palace, where the heralds were awaiting them, and then, 
amid the beating of drums and the flourishes of trumpets, 
the Chief Herald, Garter King at Arms, proclaimed William 
and Mary King and Queen of England ; the surrounding 
populace ratified the proclamation and promised their loyal 
allegiance by enthusiastic cheers, and the English Revolution 
was completed. 


169 


CHAPTER IX. 

State of feeling in Scotland during the last part of the Year 1688—A 
meeting of the leading Scotchmen takes place in London, Jan. 7th, 
1689—They request him to convoke the Estates of Scotland—Great 
riots in Scotland—William's language on the subject of religion— 
The Estates are opened by a letter from William—He recommends an 
Union with England—Time-serving policy of the chief Scotch nobles 
—The Estates declare William and Mary King and Queen of Scotland 
—They prefer a claim of right which abolishes episcopacy—Conduct 
of those who continue to adhere to James—Character and views of 
Lord Dundee—He takes arms in the cause of James—The Battle of 
Killiecrankie and death of Dundee—Great importance of his loss. 

But the decisions of an English Parliament had as yet no 
authority in Scotland or Ireland. Those two kingdoms 
were alike in this respect, though widely different in the 
view which they took of the recent events. In Scotland, 
where the vast majority of the people were Protestants, 
though of various denominations, James’s j^olicyand objects 
had long caused great discontent, though the presence of 
several English regiments in the country stifled its expres¬ 
sion. But when they were withdrawn to make head against 
William in the south of England, the feelings of the people, 
the curb being removed, could no longer be restrained. 
They broke out in fierce riots, if it may not be said in open 
insurrection. Lord Perth, the Chancellor, was seized and 
thrown into prison. The Pope was burnt in effigy. Holy- 
rood Palace, because the Royal Chapel had lately been 






I/O The English Revolution. 

used for Roman Catholic worship, was broken into and 
plundered. The lords of the Privy Council, sharing the 
general enthusiasm, issued an order for disarming all Roman 
Catholics, and inviting all Protestants to come forward and 
defend the true religion. And, when it became known that 
James had fled from England, and that the administration 
was for the time in the hands of the Prince, a large party of 
Peers and gentlemen of influence went up to London to 
watch the course which events might take. 

They reached London on the first day of the new year ; 
and, on the 7 th of January, William invited them to consult 
together, as he had formerly invited the leading Englishmen. 
They met under the presidency of the Duke of Hamilton, 
and after a long debate passed resolutions similar to those 
which the English Councillors had adopted a fortnight before; 
requesting the Prince to take upon himself the temporary 
administration of the Government, and to call together 
the Estates of Scotland, as he had already summoned the 
two Houses of the English Parliament. He willingly ex¬ 
pressed his compliance with a request the expectation of 
which had been his chief reason for inviting their delibera¬ 
tions. The rqth of March was fixed for the meeting of the 
Estates; and Hamilton and his colleagues returned to their 
own country to prepare for it. 

In one important respect William departed in Scotland 
from the line of conduct which he had observed in England. 
He took upon himself by his own authority to annul various 
sentences of forfeiture and deprivation which, within the 
last few years, had been passed against the Earl of Argyll 
and other Peers, and sent them or their representatives 
summonses to take their places in the Estates. And in the 
same manner he also repealed the law which required every 


Riots in Scot/and. 


i/i 


elector for a county or borough to renounce the Covenant, 
and which thereby deprived the Presbyterians of the 
elective franchise; but both the acts were so completely 
in harmony with the national feeling that no complaint was 
made of such an exercise of his power, though no more 
arbitrary act had ever been committed by James, and 
though it was obviously intended to secure the presence of 
such Peers and such representatives of the people as should 
be favourable to the Prince’s views. 

Not, indeed, that these new regulations at first produced 
tranquillity. The Scotch elections were not conducted with 
the order and quiet that had distinguished those in England. 
In the northern kingdom, the Protestants were, perhaps, 
pretty equally divided between Episcopalians and Presby¬ 
terians ; but the latter, who were drawn principally from the 
lower classes, regarded the former with a bitter enmity : and, 
even before the intelligence of the King’s second flight had 
crossed the border, had begun to attack the established clergy 
with all the ferocity of fanaticism. In the blindness of their 
bigotry and rejection of all ancient ceremonies and obser¬ 
vances, they had denounced the practice of keeping holy 
even those anniversaries which were connected with the 
name and life of the Redeemer himself; and now, to mark 
their hatred of those who regarded Christmas Day as a 
solemn and glorious festival, they selected it, especially in 
the western counties, for a general onslaught on all who did 

not share their prejudices. They broke into the vicarages 
« a 
of the clergy, tore their robes, beat them, carried them about 

their parishes in insulting processions; turned their wives 

and families out of doors, though the snow was on the 

ground; destroyed their furniture and property, locked or 

barred up the church doors; and threatened the priests 



172 


The English Revolution. 


with instant death if they ever entered it or performed 
divine service there again. 

As the country was wholly denuded of troops, there were 
no means of repressing these outrages : impunity encouraged 
further lawlessness, till the Presbyterian ministers proceeded 
to more organized insolence. Professing to be horrified at 
the conduct of some individuals in the different mobs, who 
had not only insulted and beaten the Episcopalian clergy, 
but had also robbed them, they convened a meeting of their 
own body, at which, under pretence of saving them from 
further outrage, they drew up a formal notice to the different 
clergymen whom these mobs had not yet expelled, requir¬ 
ing them to offer no resistance, but to quit their parishes 
peaceably, lest a worse thing should happen to them. It 
was to no purpose that William issued a proclamation 
denouncing and forbidding such acts. The rioters grew 
more bold week by week. At first their violence had been 
confined to the rural districts, but the very day after the 
proclamation reaphed Glasgow, they rose in that, already 
the second city in Scotland; stormed the Cathedral, and, 
with murderous assaults, drove out the congregation, which 
was assembled for divine service, and was naturally unpro¬ 
vided with any means of defence ; and presently pene¬ 
trated into Edinburgh itself, where their threats and numbers 
caused general terror. 

The Scotch Bishops appealed in vain to William for some 
protection more effectual than a proclamation which was 
disregarded. At such a distance he had no means of 
affording it, and was not even inclined to give any which 
should have the appearance of a pledge to preserve the 
existing arrangements. Though not an irreligious man, he 
was indifferent to forms of religion. Calvinism was the 


Meeting of the Scotch Estates. 173 

doctrine in which he had been brought up, and, though he 
apparently would have preferred to see the episcopal system 
established throughout these kingdoms as more in harmony 
with a monarchy, he was too indifferent on the subject to 
be inclined to force it on any population that was reluctant 
to receive it. His answer, therefore, to the Scotch prelates 
was that the Estates themselves must settle the ecclesiastical 
arrangements; that, if the Bishops supported his Government, 
he- on his part would do his best to preserve them, while 
granting ample toleration to the Presbyterians; but that, if 
they opposed the new settlement of the Government, and 
if a great majority in their Parliament should condemn 
Episcopacy, he could not make a war for them, and should 
at most only be able to secure for them the same indulgence 
which under other circumstances he promised the Presby¬ 
terians. But the Bishops placed their hopes on another, 
and paid no regard to the conditions on which William’s 
inclination to maintain them not unnaturally depended. 

On the 14th of March the Scottish Estates met. William 

could not leave London to open them in person, but he sent 

down a letter to point out to them the different matters to 

which he desired to direct their attention; he professed a 

general attachment to Protestantism, without indicating any 

preference for either Episcopacy or Presbytery; but added 

to the recommendations which he had addressed to the 

English Convention, the expression of his warm approval 

of a measure for which many of their body who had waited 

* , , 
on him in England had declared their anxiety, an union 

between the two' kingdoms. Such a measure had been 

among the earliest projects of James I. The idea had 

been again revived under Charles II., and by the winter of 

1670 some progress had even been made in a treaty by 



1 74 


The English Revolution. 


which it was to be carried out, when circumstances which 
are not clearly explained, but which probably had their 
origin in religious difficulties, caused it to be abandoned. 
It was, as we all know, accomplished not many years after 
William’s death, and has produced to both countries all the 
advantages that could have been anticipated by its warmest 
advocate ; yet it was hardly judicious to bring it forward at 
this moment, or to mix it up with other matters which more 
required instant determination. 

As in the English Convention, there were two parties. 
And the very opening ceremony showed how strong the 
opposers of the new Government believed themselves to 
be, since the Bishop of Edinburgh introduced into the 
prayer with which the meeting was opened a petition for the 
restoration of King James; but the first vote of the Estates 
proved to them that they deceived themselves. It was felt 
by both sides that the election of a President would be a 
test of their strength, and the choice of a large majority fell 
upon the Duke of Hamilton, who had given in his adhesion 
to William, in preference to the Duke of Athol, who fancied 
himself slighted by him, and, full of mortified pride, now 
proclaimed himself a supporter of James. It was a curious 
instance of the time-serving meanness of the generality of 
politicians of that day, as well as of their uncertainty as to 
which party would eventually get the upperhand, that the 
heirs of both these great Dukes took different sides from 
their fathers. Lord Arran adhered to the King; the Marquis 
of Tullibardine declared for the Prince ; with a view of, in 
any event, preserving the family title and estates from 
forfeiture. 

And this continued to be the policy of many of the most 
influential Scotchmen for the next two generations; so that 


Vote of the Scotch Estates. 


175 


in the rebellion of 1745 the father and his eldest son 
were often found in the opposite camps. This want of 
principle was, however, now of great advantage to William. 
The moment that the bias of the Estates was thus decisively 
shown by the election of the Duke of Hamilton, a large 
section of the Jacobite minority went over to the majority, 
and their conversion rendered the settlement of affairs 
easy, as far as the Estates were concerned. One party did 
indeed avail itself of William’s recommendation of an union 
to urge that the arrangement of that measure should be 
treated as an inseparable part of the proposed settlement of 
the whole Government, and that therefore the existing inter¬ 
regnum should be prolonged till the necessary treaty with 
the English Parliament should be concluded. And those 
who advocated this course were supported by the whole body 
of the Jacobites, 1 who saw that it must cause a great delay, 
and rightly conceived that any delay was favourable to the 
prospects of James. 

But the same reason prompted all who desired the 
establishment of William and Mary to exert themselves the 
more to accomplish an immediate settlement; and they 
were so successful that, on the nth of April, the same day 
on which the new King and Queen of England were 
crowned at Westminster, the Estates passed a vote in 
very nearly the words of the English resolution, 2 which 

1 The name Jacobites was not yet adopted as the badge of the party, but 
it is convenient to use it from the beginning. 

2 There were a few alterations which were necessitated by the difference 
between the circumstances of England and Scotland. It could not be said 
in Scotland that James had abdicated the throne by quitting the kingdom, 
because he had never been in Scotland since he had been King. The 
Estates had therefore, in declaring that he was no longer King, no alterna¬ 
tive but that of declaring that he had "forfeited ” the throne by his mis- 
government. 





176 


The English Revolution. 


declared that James had forfeited the throne, and acknow¬ 
ledged the English Sovereigns as King and Queen of 
Scotland also. And they further imitated the English 
Convention in their precautions for the future, and on the 
part of the whole Scotch people framed “ a claim of rights,” 
the chief article of which was an assertion that “ the Refor¬ 
mation in Scotland having been begun by a party among 
the clergy, all prelacy in that Church was a great and insup¬ 
portable grievance.” The conclusion certainly did not 
follow from the premiss, and it was equally certain that what 
they claimed had not only never been enacted by Scotch 
law, but that it was directly contrary to laws which were 
established and notorious. But their object was to make the 
establishment of Presbyterianism a condition on which the 
crown was to be held in future; and the insertion of the 
clause was acquiesced in even by some of those who pre¬ 
ferred Episcopacy to any other form of government, but 
who saw danger to the new settlement in leaving the 
question open, and who thought the securing a tranquil 
commencement of their reign to the new Sovereigns an 
object of paramount importance above every other. 

The pressure of business in London prevented the new 
King and Queen from coming to Scotland to be crowned ; 
nor, indeed, had any of the descendants of James I. gone 
through that ceremony. It had been thought sufficient for 
them to take the Scotch coronation oath; and, in accord¬ 
ance with these precedents, at the beginning of May three 
members of the Estates, representing the Peers, the county 
members, and the borough members, were despatched to 
London to administer the oath to them. The ceremony 
was as nearly as possible the same as that which had been 
observed when, in February, Lord Halifax had requested 


William and Mary accept the Scottish Crown. 177 

their acceptance of the English Crown. William and 
Mary received the Commissioners at Whitehall seated under 
a canopy of state, and attended by all the chief officers of 
the Court, and a splendid retinue of English nobles. The 
Earl of Argyll, as the Chief Commissioner, read the oath 
clause by clause; and both King and Queen repeated the 
words after him till they came to the last clause, to which 
they declined to swear without qualification. It bound 
them to root out all heretics and enemies of the true wor¬ 
ship of God; and it was notorious that by the fierce narrow¬ 
minded bigotry of a large party in Scotland, Episcopalians, 
Lutherans, Baptists, Quakers, nay, even those of the Pres¬ 
byterians who had not subscribed to the “ Solemn League 
and Covenant,” were classed as “ malignants and sectaries,” 
enemies of the true worship. 

William was not inclined to bind himself to persecute 
nine-tenths of his new subjects, and had previously given 
the Commissioners notice of the course which he designed 
to take. When, therefore, Argyll had recited that article ot 
the oath, the Sovereigns paused. “ I will not,” said William, 
“bind myself to become a persecutor.” “Neither the 
words of this oath nor the laws of Scotland impose any 
such obligation on your Majesties,” was Argyll’s reply. 
William called on all present to witness that he swore to 
this last clause only with this reservation; then he repeated 
that clause also; and in Scotland as in England the revolu¬ 
tion was completed. 

The rapidity with which these transactions had been 
settled in the Scotch Estates had been in no small degree 
owing to the fear which the Whig leaders entertained of the 
military resources of those who had not yet renounced their 
allegiance to James. His post of Governor of Edinburgh 

N 






i 7 8 


The English Revolution. 


Castle gave great importance to the conduct of the Duke 
of Gordon, one of the few Scotch nobles who belonged to 
the Romish Church; but the most important man of the 
party was Viscount Dundee, an officer of the most enter¬ 
prising courage, and of high professional skill. Though 
nearly two centuries have passed since that brilliant soldier 
fell on the field of victory, his history is even now rarely 
written without a strong tincture of party feeling, and it is 
consequently easier to ascertain the leading facts of his 
career during these, the last few months of his life, than the 
motives which led him to resolve on the course which he 
finally adopted. 

During the later years of the reign of Charles II., Dun¬ 
dee, then Colonel Graham of Claverhouse, had been sent 
at the head of a small body of troops into the western 
lowlands to act against some bodies of Covenanters, who, 
after murdering Sharpe, the Archbishop of St. Andrews, 
had risen in open insurrection against the Government. As 
a zealous servant of both King and Church, he seems to 
have regarded the most rigorous chastisement of those who 
were both rebels and Nonconformists as imposed upon him 
by every principle of both civil and military duty; accord¬ 
ingly he treated not only those whom he took with arms in 
their hands, but sometimes even the preachers and the 
peaceful members of their congregations, with merciless 
severity. Such severity he, indeed, affirmed to be the truest 
mercy to the whole country, by its effect in repressing or 
its promptitude in extinguishing disorders. But those who 
felt the weight of his hand could hardly be expected to 
coincide in that view; and he was in his turn regarded by 
every Presbyterian in Scotland with a deep feeling of per¬ 
sonal hatred, which, because of his pre-eminence in ability, 


Conduct of Lord Dundee. 


1 79 


visited on his head not only his own fierce deeds, but the 
cruel persecutions of others of higher authority and far more 
pitiless temper than himself. 

He had been one of the officers who, on the first in¬ 
telligence of William’s invasion, had been summoned in 
haste with his regiment to the King’s aid. At Salisbury he 
had warmly, but with far better faith, supported Churchill’s 
advice to attack the Prince’s army on its advance; and 
when his counsel was rejected he had, in obedience to the 
King’s orders, fallen back with the whole Scotch division 
under his orders, to the neighbourhood of London. But he 
was preparing to make his peace with the Prince, to whom 
he was favourably known, and under whom he had served at 
Senef, when James returned to Whitehall. Resolved never 
to desert his old master vdiile he was true to himself, Dundee 
also repaired to Whitehall, and undertook the commission of 
at once returning with the Earl of Balcarras to Scotland, to 
act as the King’s Commander-in-Chief in that kingdom, w r hile 
the Earl should conduct the civil government. But before 
they could leave London, James once more fled; and on 
this Dundee and Balcarras both apparently thought them¬ 
selves released from their allegiance, so far as to be at liberty 
to make terms for themselves with the Prince. They were 
not ignorant that some of the opposite party in their ow r n 
country had already urged him to proscribe them; but they 
were also, in all probability, aw^are that he had refused to 
do so. Balcarras, who w r as connected with the House of 
Orange by marriage, addressed himself directly to William; 
Dundee employed the mediation of Burnet. They would 
not assist in overturning the throne of him whom they still 
regarded as their King; but they w r ould submit and live 
quietly under William’s Government if it should be estab- 

N 2 



180 The English Revolution. 

fished; and he on his part promised them protection if they 
lived peaceably at home, and kept within the law. 1 They 
returned to Scotland. But before the day fixed for the 
meeting of the Estates, James had again opened communica¬ 
tions with them, and they began to waver. They learnt 
that he was preparing to return to his kingdoms to strike 
a blow for his throne, and that Louis had promised him 
ample supplies of arms and money. 

It was evidently doubtful what shape events might take, 
and they were both unwilling to take any step which might 
lessen his chances of success. They resolved to temporize, 
and to attend the meeting of the Estates ; and Dundee 
persuaded the Duke of Gordon to temporize also, and at 
least to delay evacuating the Castle. But still they so far 
kept faith with William that they abstained from all active 
resistance, and both signed the resolution which was agreed 
to by the great majority of the Convention, to disregard 
any order for their dissolution which might be sent, even by 
James himself, and to continue their sittings till they should 
have placed the civil and religious liberties of the kingdom 
on a secure footing. 

The two friends, however, were not entirely in the same 
position. Balcarras had never provoked any personal 


1 Lord Macaulay, who never mentions Dundee without a strange and 
almost personal bitterness, second only to that in which he speaks of 
Marlborough, says, “ Dundee seems to have been less ingenuous” than 
Balcarras (vol. III., p. 270), but Burnet, who was the mediator employed 
by Dundee, shows that both the Lords behaved with equal candour; they 
were willing to promise submission, not adherence. Burnet's words are, 
“ he had employed me to carry messages from him to the King, to know 
what security he might expect if he should go and live in Scotland without 
owning his Government. The King said if he would live peaceably and at 
home he would protect him ; to this he answered, that unless he was 
forced to it, he would live quietly.”—Vol. II., p. 22. 


Conduct of Lord Dundee . 


181 

enmities; but it was well known that a large party among 
the extreme Presbyterians regarded Dundee with deadly 
animosity; and he received information, which he fully 
believed, that a number of them had conspired to assassi¬ 
nate him. He applied to the Duke of Hamilton, as Presi¬ 
dent of the Convention, for a guard. Hamilton, who was 
probably jealous of him, and who certainly bore him no 
goodwill, referred him to the Convention. But, when at the 
next meeting of that body, his complaint was brought be¬ 
fore it, the Estates disregarded his application, and passed 
on to the consideration of other matters. Dundee col¬ 
lected a small body of cavalry as his escort, and fled to 
his castle at the foot of the Grampian Hills, where he gave 
sufficient proof of the sincerity with which he had ex¬ 
pressed to William' his willingness to submit to his Govern¬ 
ment by living in perfect quiet. He was even so reluctant 
to afford any pretext for misconstruction of the motives 
of his retirement, that he offered to return and resume his 
place in the Estates if they would ensure him protection; 
and to give bail, or, what with such a man was a far more 
powerful bond, to pledge his honour to do nothing to dis¬ 
turb the new settlement. 

For what followed, the Duke of Hamilton is more 
responsible than he. Hamilton seems to have feared and 
hated him with all the jealousy of an inferior and treacherous 
spirit, 1 and to have been on the watch for any pretext to 

i Macaulay’s description of Hamilton is—“Not till the Dutch troops 
were at Whitehall had he ventured to speak out. Then he had joined the 
victorious party, and had assured the Whigs that he had pretended to be 
their enemy only in order that he might, without incurring suspicion, act 
a.s their friend.’’—Vol. III., p. 272. One can hardly do injustice to a man 
who gives this description of his own conduct, except by suspecting him of 
any honourable action. 





182 The English Revolution. 

attack him; and that men in power can usually find when 
they seek it. 

James, as has been already mentioned, had crossed over 
to Ireland just at the time when the Estates met at Edin¬ 
burgh, in the hope of, at all events, retaining his hold on 
that kingdom. And it was evident that his enterprise 
would be greatly assisted if his adherents could at the 
same time find William occupation in Scotland also. With 
this object he proposed to reopen communications with 
Dundee and Balcarras; and Lord Melfort, whom he still 
regarded with pertinacious favour, was ordered to write to 
them. The messenger who bore the letters was intercepted, 
and his packet was brought to the Duke of Hamilton. 
The letters professed to express the intentions of James 
after his restoration, of which the writer seemed to enter¬ 
tain no doubt, should be accomplished; and, as usual, they 
breathed nothing but vengeance against all the adherents 
of the new Government. It was as foolish as it was unjust 
to visit such impotent ravings upon those to whom they 
were addressed, but whom they had never reached. But 
Hamilton caught at the mere fact of their having been sent 
as a plea to gratify his own malice, and at once issued 
warrants for the arrest of the two nobles. Balcarras, who 
was still in Edinburgh, was at once apprehended and 
thrown into prison. But the news of his seizure, and of 
what was designed against himself, reached Dundee before 
the officers of the Convention could arrive to execute the 
warrants; which, as he had kept around him a small band 
of his old soldiers for his protection, they were probably 
in no great hurry to attempt. He felt almost compelled 
to become a rebel in his own defence. He fled from his 
house, resolved, as his only means of safety, to take arms 


State of the Highlands. 


183 


in the cause of his former sovereign; and the peculiar 
circumstances of the country enabled him to carry out his 
resolution with formidable effect. 

The inhabitants of the Scottish Highlands differed 
widely from those of every other part of the three king¬ 
doms. They knew little about the Royal authority or the 
ordinary laws; but they paid a blind obedience to the 
chiefs of their respective clans ; and the chieftains, in the 
part which from time to time they took in the strife of 
parties, and the factions and divisions of the Empire, were 
influenced far more by their mutual attachments or jea¬ 
lousies than by any views of general policy. The predomi¬ 
nant feeling of many of them was a fear and hatred of the 

Earl of Argyll, the chief of the Campbells, with whom the 

< 

Grahams, to whom Dundee belonged, had been at deadly 
feud ever since they had taken different sides in the great 
rebellion, and the great Montrose, the head of the Grahams, 
had been sacrificed to the successful enmity of his less 
chivalrous, but more crafty rival. Argyll himself had been 
put to death at the restoration; his son, as has been men¬ 
tioned, had met a similar fate in the first year of James’s 
reign; and his grandson, adhering to the politics of his 
family, was now recognized through Scotland as the leader 
of the party which sought the final overthrow of the Stuart 
dynasty. 

It followed that all the Highland chieftains who were 
unfriendly to the Campbells were unfriendly also to the 
new sovereigns, whom Argyll supported. And of this 
feeling Dundee now took skilful advantage. With states¬ 
manlike diplomacy, or, if that be too strong an expression, 
with a thorough insight into the character of his country¬ 
men, and a masterly skill in working on the passions and 



184 The English Revolution. 

prejudices of the various chiefs, conciliating, mediating, 
sparing neither his own labour nor his own purse, he won to 
his side several gallant and influential leaders. By the 18th 
of May, Cameron of Lochiel, all the chiefs of the different 
branches of the Macdonalds, Sleat, Glengarry, Clanronald, 
and Keppoch, with Stewart of Appin, had joined him, each 
at the head of several hundred men. 1 And during the next 
two months the fiery cross was sent through the different 
glens, and unwearied preparation was made for battle. For, 
at the first meeting of the Estates, William had sent from 
England General Mackay, a soldier of high reputation, 
with the Scotch regiments which he had brought over from 
Holland, to protect the Convention; and, from the mo¬ 
ment that the Duke of Gordon had refused to surrender 
Edinburgh Castle, and that Dundee had fled from the 
capital, the Convention had exerted itself to strengthen 
his force. 

Mackay would have preferred an early trial of strength, 
but Dundee’s plan was different. He saw how important it 
was for James’s cause that the victory on which he reckoned 
should be decisive. And he earnestly besought the King, 
who had 40,000 men in Ireland, to send him over a divi¬ 
sion of trained troops to form, as it w r ere, the backbone of 
his army; for, being himself a soldier experienced in war, 
and knowing the value of discipline, he was unwilling, if he 

1 Macaulay rates the whole Highland force at Killiecrankie as scarcely 
above 3,000 (p. 355), but it must have been greater. He himself, as early 
as May, enumerates 600 under Lochiel; 400 under Glengarry; 700 under 
Sleat ; 500 Macleans under Sir John; in all, 2,200; besides the followers 
of Clanronald of Keppoch, of another Maclean of Lochbuy, of Mac- 
naghten, of Stewart of Appin ; the least numerous of whom he seems 
(p. 358) to estimate at about 120, besides several who joined afterwards. 
Of whom the Murrays alone, according to Dalrymple (vol. I., p. 343), 
amounted to 1,000. 


Dundee takes Arms. 


185 


could avoid it, to trust wholly to Highlanders, who, though 
of unsurpassed vigour and bravery, had no notion of 
military order. The King promised the desired reinforce¬ 
ment; and, meanwhile, Dundee showed himself as skilful in 
irregular as he had previously been known to be in regu¬ 
lar warfare; marching and countermarching; baffling all 
Mackay’s endeavours to bring him to action; and thus gaining 
two objects at once, acquiring the confidence of his own 
followers, to whom he was previously almost a stranger, 
and wearing out the troops of the enemy. Mackay himself, 
indeed, was so wearied and disgusted by his fruitless pursuit 
of him, that he proposed to the Government to occupy the 
different passes by a chain of fortresses, as a measure indis¬ 
pensable to a successful campaign against foes so active, 
and so superior to himself in knowledge of the country. 

But at the end of two months Dundee’s tactics changed. 
He had been greatly disappointed at the reinforcement sent 
to him from Ireland, which, in spite of the King’s promises, 
did not exceed 300 men, in very indifferent condition as to 
either their equipment or their discipline. But he had 
obtained the aid of several officers of rank and experience 
from the Lowlands. The clansmen had eagerly obeyed the 
summons of their chiefs. By the middle of July he had 
nearly 4,000 men around his standard, and he felt that he 
could not reckon on any great addition to his numbers, 
while every day might bring fresh reinforcements to Mackay, 
whose force already at least doubled his own. He deter¬ 
mined, therefore, no longer to shun an engagement; and, 
learning that the General was marching to make himself 
master of Blair Castle, which was the chief stronghold of 
the important Athol district, he marched with all speed to 
anticipate him. He reached it first, and secured it for the 


186 The English Revolution. 

moment; but he learnt at the same time that he should not 
be permitted to retain it without a struggle, for that Mackay, 
with his whole army, was pressing onward through the Pass 
of Killiecrankie, and was not five miles off. 

Dundee had no doubt in his own mind of the propriety, 
under the circumstances, of encountering still greater odds, 
but he judged it needful to convince others also. Those of 
his officers who were accustomed to more disciplined armies 
were recommending a retreat; and, to pacify them, he took 
a step which no man, as determined as he was not to be 
overruled, would have taken, had he felt the least uncer¬ 
tainty as to the advice he should receive from the majority. 
He called a council of war. The professional officers gave 
their opinions, as he had expected, against fighting regular 
troops with less than half their number of men, and those 
little better than undisciplined barbarians. But Dundee 
remembered the brilliant exploits which his great relative, 
Montrose, had achieved with a similar force, and listened 
rather to the counsels of the chieftains, who better knew the 
character of their followers. Their advice was, as he 
expected, of a directly opposite character, and far more 
positive. “ If the enemy were three to one,” said Lochiel, 
“ he still would fight them at once. Highlanders were irre¬ 
sistible in attacking, but lost heart in a retreat, or even in a 
defensive position. They must either fight at once, or 
disband the army. There was no third course open.” 

Dundee had all he wanted, good ground for overruling 
the more prudent counsels of the scientific soldiers. The 
council had been held early in the morning of Saturday, 
July 27, and the moment it broke up he marched towards 
the Pass. Mackay, on his part, had been ever since day¬ 
break forcing his way through it by paths, often hardly 


Dundee prepares for Battle. 187 

discernible, and in their easiest parts narrow, steep, and 
rugged. By mid-day he had reached the open ground on 
the Blair Athol side, and his men, almost exhausted with 
the toilsome ascent, were lying on the grass to rest and 
refresh themselves, when they suddenly learnt that Dundee 
was close at hand. Presently the Highlanders came in 
sight, but it took some time to array them in such an order 
of battle as suited their clannish habits, each clan by itself, 
whether its numbers were large or small, so that each chief 
might see how his men were bearing themselves, and each 
clan be stimulated to its utmost efforts by the sight of the 
prowess of its neighbours and rivals. And in the meantime 
the front lines of each army kept up a dropping but not 
very effectual fire, on the opposite ranks. 

At last, when sunset was scarcely more than an hour 
distant, all was ready. Dundee gave the word to advance, 

and his whole army raised an enthusiastic cheer when he 

» 

placed himself at its head to lead them on in person. 
There were among them some who would gladly have 
seen him less conspicuous. Lochiel, “ the Ulysses of the 
Highlands,” 1 as if he had such a foreknowledge of the 
events of the day as second sight was believed to afford to 
many of his countrymen, had earnestly recommended him 
to keep out of danger. Victory would be no victory if any 
harm should befall him. No one but he could conciliate 
the rivalries and jealousies of the different clans, and keep 
them in willing co-operation. He prayed him, therefore, 
to content himself with the duties of a Commander-in- 
Chief; to make his arrangements, to issue his orders, but 

1 It is the expression of Lord Macaulay (vol. III., p. 321), to whose 
brilliant descriptions I have been indebted throughout this sketch, and 
whose very words I have more than once ventured to borrow. 


188 


The English Revolution. 


to leave those whose lives were of less value to execute 
them. Dundee did not deny the soundness of his friend’s 
reasoning; but felt, too, and urged in reply, that, since he 
was as yet almost a stranger to the Highlanders, he must 
this day win their confidence by showing himself foremost 
in danger. They expected to see their leaders in the 
thickest of the battle, and there they should this day see 
him. But, at the same time, he promised Lochiel that 
when he had thus proved to them that they could trust 
him, in subsequent battles he would take more care of 
himself. 

Rejoicing in the adoption of their favourite tactics of 
attack, the Highlanders were full of confidence. In answer 
to their cheer, Mackay’s men, too, had raised a shout, but it 
was faint and broken. “ It was not,” said Lochiel, “ the cry 
of men who were going to win.” Dundee himself was at 
the head of the whole line, with a small body of horse, not 
above 40* but the entire cavalry of the army, and each 
chief was at the head of his clan. To put himself on 
perfect equality with his meanest follower, Lochiel himself, 
though now past middle age, threw away his shoes, and, 
barefooted, dashed forward. The whole line rushed on 
rather than marched, firing as they advanced; then, as they 
came to close quarters, they threw away their muskets, 
drew their broadswords, and with fresh cheers hurled them¬ 
selves upon the opposing ranks. Mackay’s infantry had no 
swords. Their dependence was on their bayonets, which, 
when they had done firing, they screwed into the muzzles 
of their guns. They used no bayonets this day. Before 
they could fix them, the Highlanders were upon them ; they 
could neither fire nor thrust, but were routed as unresistingly 
as if they had no weapons at all. Scarcely one regiment 


The Battle of Killiecrankie . 189 

held its ground for a moment. In vain did Mackay, who 
never lost his presence of mind, try to change the fortune 
of the day by bringing up some troops of cavalry, a force 
which the Highlanders were unused to encounter, and of 
which they entertained a superstitious dread. The troopers 
were dismayed at the rout of the infantry, and fled in equal 
disorder, and in a few minutes the battle was over. Mackay, 
though he exerted himself to the utmost, could not col¬ 
lect more than a handful of men in orderly retreat; the 
rest were flying in promiscuous confusion. And, had not 
one chance shot realized the worst fears of Lochiel, the 
whole army must have been destroyed. 

But that one shot had struck down Dundee. Before the 
two armies closed, he turned round in his saddle, waving his 
hat, to encourage his handful of horse to a more rapid 
advance, and as he raised his arm a musket ball struck his 
uncovered side. He fell mortally wounded, but the conflict 
was brief enough for him to receive the assurance of his 
victory before his consciousness passed away. A soldier 
named Johnstone caught him as he fell. After a minute 
or two he desired him to raise his head that he might see the 
progress of the fight, but his eyes were already dim. “ How 
goes the day?” said he. “ Well for the King,” replied John¬ 
stone ; “ but I am grieved for you.” “ If it is well with him, 
it is well with me,” were the last words of the dying hero. 
For though, when some of his friends gathered round him 
half an hour afterwards, life seemed to them not to be 
wholly extinct, he never spoke again. 

Not knowing whom to obey, though presently Cannon, 
the general of the Irish division, took the command, the 
Highlanders, after plundering the baggage of the defeated 
enemy, retired to Blair Castle. Mackay, toiling all night, 
collecting stragglers, making his way through an unknown 


190 The English Revolution. 

country, and marvelling that he was not pursued, on the 
second day after the battle reached Stirling. The battle 
had been lost through no fault of his, and his exertions to 
retrieve it did him the highest honour. In the course of 
the next day or two he gathered round him a few companies 
which had not been at Killiecrankie, and so far restored 
heart and steadiness to his men“that they attacked and 
routed a detachment which Cannon had sent to Perth for 
supplies. Divisions arose in the Highland camp, which, 
indeed, could never be kept in harmony on any condition 
but that of continual success. The most powerful of the 
chieftains refused to obey the orders of Cannon, and re¬ 
turned home. On the 21st of August, Cannon, with the 
forces that remained to him, was repulsed in an attack on 
Dunkeld by the Cameronians, as a regiment was called 
which had just been raised for William’s service by the Earl 
of Angus, and which was composed almost wholly of men 
who held the Cameronian tenets, the most extreme fanatics 
of all the supporters of the Covenant. 

The defeat completed the disunion. The clans dis¬ 
persed, after signing a bond, which probably no one ever 
expected to be acted upon, to renew their exertions for 
King James whenever he should again summon them, and 
Cannon returned with his own division to Ireland. Mackay 
took the most effectual steps to render any future rising 
abortive, by organizing a well-designed chain of military 
posts through the districts which had been the theatre of 
the late operations. And, profiting further by his recent 
experience, he introduced an improvement in his men’s 
weapons, which has since been adopted by every army in 
Europe. He invented a new mode of fixing the bayonet, 
so that it should no longer close the muzzle of the gun; 
but that, being fastened to the side of the barrel, it should 


Death of Dundee. 


igi 

render the weapon available at any moment for either pur¬ 
pose of firing or thrusting. 

The war in Scotland was over, so vast was the impor¬ 
tance of the life of one great man. The dead hero was borne 
to Blair Castle, and buried in the humble village church which 
has long ceased to exist. As he met his fate while warring 
on what eventually proved the losing side, no memorial 
marks the place of his rest, but a stone on the field of 
battle still covers the spot where he was struck down, as the 
plate in the deck of the Victory preserves the memory of 
that where the still greater Nelson received his death- 
wound. Both men perished in the hour of victory, but 
Nelson’s death produced no such results as that of Dundee ; 
for that terminated a war at a most critical moment, and 
thus enabled William to direct his whole attention to the 
contest in Ireland, which, as we shall presently see, was 
every moment assuming larger proportions. Though, the very 
day after Killiecrankie, Londonderry was saved, and though 
before the end of the next week Lord Mountcashel was 
routed by Wolseley at Newton Butler, yet the winter cam¬ 
paign in Ireland, on the whole, proved decidedly unfavour¬ 
able to William. And, though we may well believe that, in a 
contest between Princes so unequally matched as James 
and William, the final issue of the contest could not have 
been doubtful, yet it is hard to say how long it might not 
have been protracted, had William been compelled to 
divide his forces and to carry on operations at the same 
moment on both sides of the Channel; and a protraction 
of it must have been attended not only by great personal 
distress and suffering, but also by great political dangers, 
if not by serious political mischiefs, to each of the three 
kingdoms. 


192 


CHAPTER X. 

James lands in Ireland in March, 1689—The disturbed state of Ireland— 
Illegal and violent Government of Lord Tyrconnel—The Protestants 
refuse Lord Antrim admission into Derry—Tyrconnel disarms the 
Protestants, and enlists the Roman Catholics—James lays siege to 
Derry—Sufferings and fortitude of the Inhabitants—The siege is 
raised—The Battle of Newtown Butler—Violent proceedings of the 
Irish Parliament—The general act of attainder —Adulteration of the 
coinage—Schomberg’s campaign in the autumn of 1689—1690 
William takes the command—The Battle of the Boyne. 

It has been already mentioned that at the end of Feb¬ 
ruary James quitted St. Germains, and a fortnight later 
landed at Kinsale, in the county Cork, with the hope of 
making victories in Ireland the means of recovering his 
authority in England. Louis, whose idea of the kingly dig¬ 
nity was that it was most becomingly shown by acting 
as master of ceremonies on a most imposing scale of 
magnificence, had never had a more splendid oppor¬ 
tunity of displaying his genius as such, than when his 
cousins were driven from their English throne and threw 
themselves on his protection and hospitality; and it 
cannot be denied that his conduct to them was marked 
not only with a truly royal liberality, but with a delicacy 
of good taste and kind feeling which did not commonly 
seem to belong to his character. 

The moment that the news reached Versailles that the 


1 


James and his Queen reach France. 193 


Queen had landed in France, labourers were set to work 
to repair the road by which she was to travel. Royal 
carriages were sent to Calais for her conveyance; the royal 
guard furnished her escort. As she approached the capital, 
Louis himself went to meet her with a gorgeous train of a 
hundred carriages-and-six. He descended from his coach to 
salute her, and led the way to the Palace of St. Germains, 
which had been already furnished for her use. When 
James himself arrived he was received with equal pomp. 
Louis requested him to consider the palace as his own, so 
long as he might need it, and in addition to 16,000 louis, 
which had been placed in his and the Queen’s apartments 
for a present supply, allotted them also a pension of £ 2,000 
a month. 1 

He had expressed a courteous hope that they would not 
long require a French home; and when, after a two months 
sojourn at St. Germains, James’s deliberations resulted in a 
resolution to raise his standard in Ireland, Louis equipped 
him for his enterprise with unstinted prodigality of re¬ 
sources. There was policy in the lavishness of his aid, for, 
in truth, it was of no little importance to himself that 
William should not be able to throw the weight of England 
into the scale against him in the war which he was now 
waging. He did not, indeed, furnish James with any 
French regiments, since it would clearly have been fatal to 
every hope of success for him to seem to depend for his 
restoration on foreign bayonets. Nor was there any de¬ 
ficiency of men in Ireland. But he lent him a large body of 

‘ Lord Macaulay, without mentioning his authority, calls the pension 
,£45,000 a year. But Madame de S^vigne, who exalts the munificence to 
the very utmost, as the very “image of the Almighty,” says expressly that 
the sum was “ cinquante mille francs par mois ” (Letter of January 17), 
and St. Simon fixes it at the same sum. 


O 


194 


The English Revolution. 


skilful officers to discipline the recruits whom he might 
tempt to his service, and an officer whom he held in high 
esteem to act as Commander-in-Chief. The Count de 
Rosen belonged by birth to one of the noblest families of 
Livonia, and was connected by marriage with the cele¬ 
brated Bernard, Duke of Weimar. Louis, who was gene¬ 
rally eager to engage foreign talent in his service, had gladly 
employed and promoted him, and eventually raised him to 
the rank of Marshal. But, according to St. Simon, whose 
account of him probably embodies the estimate formed of 
him by his brother officers, his talents did not rise above 
those of a dashing cavalry officer, or a general of division 
under the orders of others; and, if they had been greater, 
they would have been neutralized by his coarseness of 
manners and extreme ferocity of disposition. 

Besides these officers, Louis gave arms for 10,000 men, 
great quantities of ammunition, and above ,£100,000 of 
money. That James might from the first be surrounded 
with some of the dignity of a Court, the Count d’Avaux, 
than whom France had no abler diplomatist, also accom¬ 
panied him as accredited ambassador, being further autho¬ 
rized by his master to expend large sums, if opportunity 
should arise, in gaining over members of the English Par¬ 
liament. A splendid fleet was equipped at Brest, and on 
the 12 th of March disembarked James and his retinue in 
safety at Kinsale. 

He came to men who were expecting him, and who had 
been urgent in their entreaties that he should not delay 
his arrival. Ireland had been for some time in a state of 
great agitation. In some parts of the country civil war 
was already raging. Tyrconnel had been carrying out - his 
instructions with a fierce and blind zeal, and trampling on 


James returns to Ireland. 


*95 


laws and precedents with a perfect disregard of every will 
but his own, which James himself could not have surpassed. 
He had filled the judicial bench with Papists, and had even 
given the seals to Alexander Fitton, a man notoriously 
guilty of forgery, but who, in his and his master’s eyes, had 
atoned for his guilt by renouncing Protestantism. Another 
Roman Catholic, Stephen Rice, 1 had been made Chief 
Baron, for the express purpose of undoing the Act of 
Settlement; and he, by a series of illegal decisions, had 
stripped Protestant after Protestant of his estate, and con¬ 
fiscated charter after charter of the chief boroughs and 
cities of the kingdom. 

In like manner the army had been purged of Churchmen 
and Presbyterians; and the intelligence of William’s arrival 
in Torbay had hardly crossed the Channel when a rumour 
was spread abroad that Tyrconnel was meditating a re¬ 
newal of the atrocities of Sir Phelim O’Neill, in a fresh 
massacre of every Englishman or Protestant in the island. 
It was not the less believed because he denied it. But 
those who conceived themselves thus threatened with 
extermination were not inclined to submit tamely to such 
a fate. At Bandon and Mallow in the south, and at Sligo 
in the west, they took arms and formed themselves into 
bands for self-defence. At Enniskillen, on Lough Erne, they 
even sallied out to encounter some companies of infantry 
which Tyrconnel had sent to take up their quarters among 
them, routed them, and drove them back to Cavan ; and 
at Londonderry the citizens, with equal resolution, prepared 
for what proved a more protracted and arduous struggle. 

i He seems to have been the author of a saying, since attributed, on 
other occasions, to more honest men, that “he would drive a coach-and- 
six through the Act of Parliament.” 


O 2 



196 The English Revolution . 

The 9th of December was believed to have been fixed 
for the intended massacre’; and, a day or two before that 
date, the Earl of Antrim, at the head of 1,200 men, 
crossed Lough Foyle at the ferry which gave access to the 
town from the Coleraine road, and demanded admittance 
and quarters in the name of King James. The civic 
authorities had no inclination to refuse him admittance. 
Chief Baron Rice had quelled the spirit of the Corporation. 
The Bishop held, and at all times consistently preached, 
the most extreme doctrines of non-resistance. The magis¬ 
trates were on the point of submitting to the Earl’s demand, 
a submission which might have affected the whole subse¬ 
quent history of the country, and which would certainly 
have deprived it of its most brilliant episode, when a few 
young Protestant apprentices were suddenly seized with a 
generous fear for their liberty and their religion, which 
overbore all other fear. Hearing what was passing, they 
rushed to the gates, closed them in the face of the 
soldiers; let fall the portcullis; manned the guns on the 
lines; and sent out messengers in every direction to 
implore instant aid from the inhabitants of the surrounding 
district. 

No call was ever more promptly answered. Men of all 
classes, gentry, farmers, and peasants, poured in to the 
threatened city with such rapidity and in such numbers 
that Lord Antrim did not dare to attempt to force an 
entrance ; and Tyrconnel himself, whom the news of what 
was taking place in England had rendered doubtful of the 
issue of the contest there, for a moment thought it best 
to temporize, and to seek rather to tranquillize than to 
subdue. He sent Lord Mountjoy, the Master of the 
Ordnance, who, being a Protestant himself, was more likely 


Violence of Lord Tyrconnel. 


19; 


to be listened to by Protestants, to try and persuade the 
men of Ulster to lay aside their fears. With the people of 
Enniskillen Mountjoy wholly failed, and the citizens of 
Londonderry only listened to him so far as to allow him to 
leave them a few of his Protestant soldiers as a garrison. 
But even before that was done Tyrconnel changed his mind. 
The Roman Catholics, whom he had found it easy to excite 
against the Protestants, it was not so easy to call off their 
prey. They became furious and menacing when they learnt 
that he had shown a willingness to parley with those whom 
they hated and believed at their mercy. And he, resuming 
his former policy, but seeing that he needed aid to carry it 
out, set himself to work, with greater violence than ever, to 
rouse the native Irish and Roman Catholic population; and 
sent Mountjoy and Chief Baron Rice to France to implore 
James at once to cross over and put himself at their head. 
It seems certain that Rice was further instructed, if James 
should hesitate to comply with the invitation, to address 
himself to Louis, and to offer him Tyrconneks assistance to 
make Ireland a province of France. 

James, however, as we have seen, at once resolved to 
undertake the enterprise. But in the few weeks which 
elapsed between the departure of the embassy and his 
arrival, the whole country presented a strange scene of 
horror, such as no part of these kingdoms had witnessed 
since the days of the Danes. Tyrconnel, at the same time 
that he roused the native Irish, disarmed the Protestants. 
Of the native Irish, nearly 50,000 obeyed his summons to 
enlist. 1 An equal number, preferring the license of war to 
the discipline of an army, roamed the country in large 

1 "Now or never, now and for ever,” was the motto which he em¬ 
blazoned on the flag which waved over Dublin Castle. 


198 The English Revolution. 

bodies, plundering, burning, and destroying the cattle which 
were the chief riches of the people, and murdering the 
owners whenever they fell into their hands. Their human 
victims, however, were comparatively few; the greater part 
saved themselves by timely flight, seeking refuge in the 
North, the only district where the Viceroy’s authority was 
not implicitly obeyed. And thus South and West gradually 
contributed to swell the force which was gathering within 
the walls of Londonderry, and the fugitives prepared to 
requite the protection which the brave city afforded by 
pouring out their blood in its defence. 

In ordinary times the population of the xnty did not 
exceed 6,000 or 7,000 souls; but now it was computed that 
30,000 were collected within its walls; such an accession 
of numbers making the resistance at first more formid¬ 
able, but in the end aggravating the horrors of the siege, 
from the difficulty of providing supplies for so unaccustomed 
a multitude. For, even before James landed at Kinsale, 
Tyrconnel had sent a force to besiege Londonderry, under 
the command of General Richard Hamilton. And the 
importance of its reduction was so obvious that James re¬ 
solved to hasten thither himself as soon as possible, think¬ 
ing, perhaps, that those who made no scruple at resisting his 
generals, would hesitate to oppose himself, when he was 
known to be with the army. 

So terrible, however, had been the devastation to which the 
whole country had been subjected during the winter, that it 
was difficult for him to procure horses to travel with, and it 
was nearly a fortnight before he reached Dublin. There he 
was detained for some weeks by the deliberations forced 
upon him by the discordant views of different parties among 
his followers. The native Irish, with Tyrconnel at their 


Siege of Derry. 


199 


head, shaped all their counsels by their desire to effect 
a permanent separation between their own country and 
England. D’Avaux and De Rosen, looking not at James’s 
interests, but at those of their own Sovereign, aimed at the 
same end, though for a different object. But those of 
English and Scotch blood who had followed James to 
St. Germains, and who still accompanied him, desired the 
establishment of his authority in Ireland as a means 
towards the recovery of England. 

Their views were those which he himself shared, and to 
carry them out, having made all necessary arrangements in 
Dublin, and having ordered the issue of writs for a Parlia¬ 
ment which was to meet on the 7 th of May, at the end of 
the second week in April he marched northward, and on 
the morning of the 18th came in sight of Londonderry. 
De Rosen, who now superseded Hamilton, promised him an 
easy conquest: to a military eye, the fortifications of the city 
seemed untenable. And the citizens had even a worse foe 
to contend with than the weakness of their defences; for 
Colonel Lundy, whom Lord Mountjoy had left as Governor 
of the garrison, agreed with De Rosen in thinking all 
resistance hopeless, and with a treachery which probably 
owed its origin chiefly to timidity, put himself in communi¬ 
cation with the enemy, and promised to surrender instantly. 
He even sent back two regiments which had arrived from 
England a few days before; and, as soon as the first 
companies of De Rosen’s army came in sight, he issued 
peremptory orders that no one should fire upon them. 

His very pusillanimity, by the indignation which it in¬ 
spired, gave new strength to the citizens, and was fatal to 
none but himself. The citizens rose as one man to disown 
his authority. Two officers of lower rank, Major Baker 


200 


The English Revolution. 


and Captain Murray, guided their earnest vigour, and were 
admirably assisted by a coadjutor whose profession might 
have seemed inconsistent with such a task, but in whom 
zeal for his religion overruled all other considerations, 
George Walker, rector of a rural parish in the neighbour¬ 
hood, who, like so many others, had sought shelter within the 
walls from the fury of the Popish soldiery and ravagers. They 
had some difficulty in saving Lundy from the rage of those 
whom he had designed to betray: however, he escaped by 
night in disguise; and the citizens, dividing the authority of 
Governor between a soldier and a civilian, entrusted Baker 
with the military command, and Walker with the super¬ 
intendence of all civil affairs, in which they included the 
commissariat, a charge of as great difficulty as importance 
when the mouths to be fed were out of all proportion to 
the supplies to be obtained. Walker, too, brought religious 
enthusiasm to add its fire and stubbornness to the zeal for 
civil liberty. At his bidding the clergy of every denomina¬ 
tion, Presbyterians as well as Churchmen, invited soldiers 
and citizens to daily service in all the churches. And thus, 
even before the hostile army was in a position to attack, a 
spirit of unconquerable resistance was kindled in every 
breast. 

The summons to surrender to which Lundy had engaged 
to yield, now that he was gone, was rejected with disdain; 
a weak attempt to bribe Captain Murray met with no better 
reception; and when he had thus learned that the reduction 
of the rebellious city would not be the brief and easy busi¬ 
ness which he had at first expected, James returned to 
Dublin, taking De Rosen with him, and entrusting the 
conduct of the siege to M. Maumont, a French Lieutenant- 
General, with another French officer, Brigadier Pusignan, 


Siege of Derry. 


201 


and Hamilton, as second and third in command. The 
Frenchmen were both soon killed, and Hamilton was left 
in sole command. How fruitless were his exertions, with 
what indomitable and successful courage the heroic garrison 
and equally intrepid citizens baffled the utmost efforts of his 
skill, and of that of De Rosen, who at the end of two 
months was sent back to resume the command, has been 
related at length, in words that burn, by the brilliant his¬ 
torian of these events. 

The besiegers soon turned the siege into a blockade, 
throwing a strong boom across the river below the city, 
and thus barring the only channel by which supplies or 
reinforcements could be looked for. The very coarsest 
food soon became scarce, the scarcity soon became famine. 
One flotilla, abundantly loaded with men and provisions, 
which had been sent from England for the supply of the 
city, did, indeed, make its appearance in Lough Foyle in 
the middle of June, but the hopes which the sight of its 
sails raised were cruelly disappointed. For some inexplic¬ 
able reason William had entrusted the command of it to 
the infamous Colonel Kirke, and he, who was not likely to 
be moved by the consideration or even the sight of human 
suffering, showed how little such indifference is a sign of 
courage. He pronounced the boom, guarded as it was by 
land batteries at each end, too strong to be attacked, and, 
without making a single attempt to succour the famishing 
multitude whom he had been sent to deliver, retired in 
infamous inactivity to the entrance of the Lough. His 
retreat might well have struck the citizens with despair. 
Already famine was thinning their ranks; Baker himself 
had succumbed to it. The survivors were stinted to di¬ 
minishing rations of loathsome food. De Rosen, with a 


202 


The English Revolution. 


barbarity of which even war presents but few examples, had 
sought to aggravate their misery by driving under the walls 
the few peasants and farmers who had remained to till the 
adjacent districts, and hemming them in to die of starva¬ 
tion before the eyes of their friends and kinsmen in the 
city. Many perished, till the indignation even of his own 
officers compelled the inhuman foreigner to withdraw his 
order, and to release those who survived. 

But the intelligence of Kirke’s cowardly and treacherous 
supineness had awakened one general feeling of indigna¬ 
tion in England. It reached Schomberg, whom William 
had just named Commander-in-Chief in Ireland, and who, 
while preparing to cross over, exercised his authority by 
sending a peremptory order to Kirke to relieve the town 
at all risks. It reached him when, even of such wretched 
rations as they had been long confined to, the garrison 
had scarcely enough to last two days more. He knew 
that Schomberg was not a commander to be trifled with. 
He dared not disobey; and then it was seen how easily the 
work might have been accomplished six weeks before. 
Yet, even then, he did not himself venture on any bold 
deed to save the city; he only allowed others to do so. 

The masters of two merchantmen, laden with provisions, 
Micaiah Browning, of the “Mountjoy,” and Andrew Douglas, 
of the “ Phoenix/’ who had long been grumbling at the inac¬ 
tion in which he had kept them, offered to risk their ships 
in the endeavour to effect an entrance; Captain Leake, of 
the “ Dartmouth ” frigate, volunteered to escort them and to 
protect them from the batteries on shore, and Kirke per¬ 
mitted the attempt to be made, but took no part in it. On 
the afternoon of the 28th of July, as the tide began to 
rise, the three vessels moved steadily up the stream; the 


Relief of Derry. 


203 


wind, too, was fair. The enemy, who saw their advance long 
before they came in sight of the citizens, mustered fiercely 
to oppose them, for the only navigable channel was on the 
left side of the stream, close under their camp; but the 
guns of the “ Dartmouth ” were far more powerful than theirs, 
and Leake was one of the most skilful and boldest men in 
the service. Under cover of his fire, the “ Mountjoy” dashed 
against the boom. She broke it, but recoiled from the 
shock, and for a brief time seemed stranded in the mud. 
The “ Phoenix,” however, which was close behind, passed 
swiftly through the opening which she had made; the 
rising tide soon floated the “Mountjoy,” and she, too, sailed 
through. By ten at night the vessels had reached the quay; 
they were quickly unloaded, for the whole body of citizens 
hastened down to aid in the work ; before midnight plenty 
had taken the place of starvation. The town was saved; 
and, though for a day or two longer the besiegers kept up 
an ineffectual fire, it was hardly regarded. On the last night 
of the month they set fire to the camp, and at daybreak 
on the 1 st of August the sentries on the walls saw them in 
full retreat. 

The day before James’s arms had met with another 
disaster in Fermanagh. The only other place of importance 
in the North was Enniskillen, in which the Protestants from 
the West had taken refuge ; and, as the garrison there, 
though equally resolute, was far weaker than that of London¬ 
derry, it seemed that it must be easy to reduce it by a 
single vigorous effort. Accordingly Lord Mountcashel was 
sent with 5,000 men to carry the place by assault. As a 
preliminary operation he laid siege to the small fort of 
Crum, on the borders of the county. But Colonel Wolseley, 
who commanded at Enniskillen, was an officer of rare 


204 


The English Revolution. 


capacity and enterprise. He was not content with 
defending his own town; but determined to save Crum 
also. And, though he could not muster much above half 
MountcasheFs numbers, he marched out to bring him to 
battle. He knew well how much better half-disciplined 
troops, such as his, fight in attack than in defence. 

Mountcashel, on the contrary, though far the stronger, 
fought as if he were the weaker. He retreated before the 
advancing Enniskilleners, never halting till, after passing 
through the petty town of Newton Butler, from which the 
action that ensued has taken its name, he reached a hill with 
a morass in its front, which cavalry could only cross by one 
narrow causeway. On the lower slopes of the hill he drew up 
his men, and planted his guns so as to sweep the causeway. 
But neither can bogs stop nor batteries daunt resolute men, 
especially when, as happened in this instance, religious 
enthusiasm stimulated their natural courage. Wolseley had 
given “No Popery” as the word of the day; and his men 
fought as if they considered themselves the champions of 
Protestantism, and knew the cause of their religion to depend 
on their swords. They struggled through the bog and 
stormed the battery. As soon as it was silenced, the cavalry 
charged fiercely up the causeway. The whole of Mount- 
cashel’s men seemed as if they were panic-stricken. 
Dragoons, 1 cavalry, and infantry, vied with one another in 
headlong and confused flight. Four hundred were taken 
prisoners, among whom was Mountcashel himself; nearly 
2,000 were slain, their guns, their ammunition, and their 
colours all becoming the prize of the conquerors, who would 
have covered themselves with glory if they had not in some 

1 The dragoon was, as yet, rather a mounted infantry soldier than a 
cavalry trooper. 


James holds an Irish Parliament. 205 

degree tarnished it by the ferocity with which they slaughtered 
the unresisting fugitives. 

But, serious to James as were these disasters, both in 
themselves and as indications of the probable result of his 
endeavours to re-establish his authority over the whole island, 
they were yet far less injurious to his prospects of ultimate 
success, if the feelings of England and Scotland were also 
to be taken into consideration, than the conduct of his own 
partisans, or of those who called themselves such, when they 
met with no resistance, or could overpower all opposition. 

The Parliament had met in Dublin in the second week of 
May. It was composed almost wholly of Roman Catholics. 
Not one lay Protestant Peer attended, though four Bishops 
took their seats, probably from a religious scruple as to the 
propriety of disobeying a Royal summons. In the House 
of Commons the recent remodelling of the municipal 
charters, and the general terror that had prevailed during 
the elections, had so commonly prevented Protestants from 
offering themselves as candidates, that out of 250 members 
only six belonged to the Established Church. It was there¬ 
fore, to all intents and purposes, a purely Roman Catholic 
Parliament, and it lost no time in showing the Protestants 
how little mercy, or even how little justice, they could expect 
at its hands. 

James opened the session himself in state, with a short 
speech which almost wore the appearance of a design to 
make the breach between himself and his English subjects 
irreconcilable. For he invited a reconsideration of the 
Acts of Settlement, and there could be no doubt that recon¬ 
sideration was understood to mean repeal. He made osten¬ 
tatious profession of his obligations to Louis; and even the 
third topic on which he dwelt, his resolution to abolish 


206 The English Revolution. 

religious disabilities, however commendable it might have 
been if fairly carried out, was notoriously one which a large 
section of English statesmen regarded with any feeling 
rather than favour. 

The Houses sat only ten weeks, but in that short time 
they passed acts overturning all the existing laws relating to 
religion; abrogating the most important laws respecting 
property; and threatening the lives of all the most respect¬ 
able men in the kingdom. They did indeed pass one 
humane and wise law granting liberty of conscience in 
matters of religion to all Christians. But they soon showed 
that they meant it to be a dead letter to all but Roman 
Catholics. By one of their subsequent enactments they 
transferred the tithes from the Protestant to the Roman 
Catholic clergy. By another, which was received with a 
loud cheer when it was brought in, and was carried by 
acclamation, they repealed the Act of Settlement; the 
effect of this measure being to strip the Protestants of their 
estates, the possession of which previous laws had secured 
to them, and to hand the property over to Roman Catholics. 
And this measure was so clearly pernicious as well as 
iniquitous, that James himself, though he had recommended 
it in his opening speech, was brought by the arguments of 
its opponents to deprecate it; though he could not prevent 
the Houses from voting it, and did not dare to refuse his 
assent to it. Indeed, his most earnest supporters openly 
made their support of his authority conditional on his 
consent. 

Another enactment confiscated all the estates of ab¬ 
sentees ; and, as it vested them in the King himself, was 
manifestly intended to have the same effect of enriching 
Roman Catholics at their expense, since James could 


The Irish Act of Attainder. 207 

not venture, nor was he likely to be inclined, to confer 
them on any new owners but those of his own religion. 
Another, which, indeed, preceded those which have been 
mentioned as a necessary preliminary to them, was so open 
a defiance of England, that it was plain that, if James 
should recover his authority there, it could not be main¬ 
tained without a civil war. It annulled the authority of the 
English Parliament in Ireland both as a legislative body 
and as a Court of Appeal. Violent and lawless as these 
measures were, they were far outdone by one which followed; 
which was not exceeded in atrocity by any act of the 
French revolutionists in the next century; and to which no 
previous measure of persecution in any country afforded a 
parallel. 

The two Houses passed an Act of Attainder against nearly 
3,000 persons as rebels, though it did not charge against them 
a single overt act; but, in the case of the majority, inferred 
their disaffection from their absence from the kingdom; and, 
in the case of many, had not even that argument to ad¬ 
duce against them. 1 No class, no sex, no age was exempted. 
Prelates, lay Peers, women, and minors, were equally in¬ 
cluded, in some instances even common tradesmen, who had 
the misfortune of having members of Parliament in their 
debt, to whom the proscription of their creditor seemed the 
easiest way of discharging his account. Those who were 
named might, indeed, save themselves by surrendering 
before a certain fixed day; but this provision was but a 
cruel mockery, since the list of attainted persons was not 

» In 1696, Montague justified the attainder of Sir John Fenwick by 
the necessity of taking care that James should never be in a position to 
pass such a wholesale Act of Attainder as he had proclaimed in Ireland.— 
Macaulay, vol. IV., p. 754- 


2o8 The English Revolution. 

published, but was kept secret in the Chancellor’s desk till 
after the day had past; while one clause in the Bill even 
limited the King’s prerogative of mercy, and enacted that 
if he should grant a pardon to any one mentioned in the 
act after the end of November, it should be void and of 
no effect. And this horrible and unprecedented enactment 
James also ratified by his Royal Assent, though his friends 
afterwards pleaded in his excuse that it had been given 
with reluctance. 

It was hardly strange that while all these bills for the 
destruction of Protestantism were being passed almost with¬ 
out discussion, the mob anticipated their effect, and in every 
part of the country began to commit the most cruel outrages 
on every Protestant within their reach. The municipal 
authorities of Dublin took upon themselves, without waiting 
for any new Statute, to treat Trinity College worse than 
even Magdalen University had been treated at Oxford. 
They seized the books in the library, the communion 
plate in the Chapel, expelled the scholars and fellows, and 
turned some of the rooms into barracks, and the rest into 
cells for prisoners ; the Governor even making a favour 
of allowing those who were thus ejected to depart in 
freedom. 

And while all these iniquities were being perpetrated by 
his adherents in his name, James himself, by an act of his 
own, contrived to inflict a still more general injustice on 
the whole people. His Exchequer was empty. Revenue 
depends on trade and prosperity ; and the universal panic 
which now existed had put an end to both. He exercised 
his prerogative of coining money to issue a base coinage. 
Gold and silver were unattainable, so brass was substituted, 
which was procured by the pillage of the ironmongers’ shops, 


James adulterates the Coinage. 209 

and even of the citizens’ kitchens; and of this base and 
worn-out metal coins were issued with the name of shillings 
and guineas, but of less than the value of farthings. And all 
dealers were compelled to take them; while, to keep up their 
value, a royal proclamation denounced the penalty of death 
against any one who presumed to give more than thirty- 
eight of these brass shillings for a golden guinea; and the 
governor forbade the shopkeepers to raise their prices, or to 
refuse to sell their guuds, and constables and soldiers were 
entrusted with the duty of seeing that his order was obeyed. 
Every dealer in every kind of article was thus compelled to 
sell his wares for less than a hundredth part of their value. 
The distress was universal; the indignation was as wide and 
as deep as the distress. And the great historian of these 
times traces, in all probability with perfect truth, the strange 
outcry which in the reign of George I. was raised against 
Wood’s halfpence, and of which the memory has been pre¬ 
served to our day by the Drapier’s letters, to the recollection 
of the wrong done and the suffering caused by James’s brass 
money. 

The Parliament was prorogued in the latter part of July, 
just before De Rosen’s retreat from Londonderry, and Mount- 
cashel’s rout at Newton Butler showed that the war must be 
a protracted one ; and just before William, who in the ear¬ 
liest part of the year had been too fully occupied in England 
to give Irish affairs the attention they required, began to 
show his appreciation of the important character of the 
struggle in that part of the kingdom, and his resolution to 
make more vigorous exertions to bring it to an early ter¬ 
mination. One of the motives which had led De Rosen 
to abandon the siege of Londonderry was the conviction 
that his army would do James better service by opposing 

p 


210 The English Revolution. 

Schomberg , 1 who, as he had just learnt, was on the point of 
crossing over to Ireland ; and who, in fact, did land at 
the mouth of the Belfast Lough in the middle of August. 
It was a motley army which he brought with him; for the 
diplomatic abilities of William had been rewarded some 
months before by a general coalition against Louis, of 
Germany, Spain, the States of Holland, and Prussia, not yet 
a kingdom, but already giving indications of the ambition 
and power which, even before the end of William’s reign, 
enabled her ruler to extort the acknowledgment of his 
kingly rank from the other monarchs of Europe. 

As William himself was the founder and soul of the coali¬ 
tion, his new kingdom could not be backward in the cause. 
Both Houses of the English Parliament had warmly entered 
into his views ; war had been declared against France in the 
second week in May ; and the flower of the English army 
had been placed under Marlborough’s command and sent 
to Flanders. What English soldiers, therefore, could be given 
to the old Marshal for service in Ireland were but raw 
recruits. The flower of his army was composed of some 
regiments of French refugees who had been driven from 
the service of their native country by the same persecution 
which had made an exile of Schomberg himself; and of a 
division of Dutch troops under Count Solmes, an offlcer of 
their own nation, whom William regarded with a high degree 
of that favour which he reserved exclusively for his own 
countrymen, but which he was forced to modify, or at least 
to conceal, after the indignation of all England had been 
roused by the jealous treachery with which Solmes betrayed 
the British regiments under Mackay, sacrificed that gallant 

1 Memoires de Marechal de Berwick, ecrits par lui-meme.—Vo! I., 
p. 60. 


Schomberg lands in Ireland. 211 

officer, and endangered the life of William himself on the 
bloody field of Steinkirk. 

The whole force which Schomberg brought with him did 
not exceed 10,000 men ; but it was reckoned that Ulster, 
and the English regiments already in Ulster, would furnish an 
equal number. And William had good reasons to trust to 
the old Marshal’s experience and capacity to supply all 
deficiencies, and to make him fully a match for the greater 
numbers which were at the disposal of De Rosen and James. 
And the veteran did him service such as few other men 
then alive could have done; which William himself could 
appreciate ; .but which was not that which the impatience ot 
the coffee-house politicians in England were looking for. 
They calculated on an early battle and a decisive victory. 
Schomberg soon ascertained that his army was in no con¬ 
dition to fight. The larger half had to learn the very rudi¬ 
ments of discipline. And, under the irregular, careless and 
corrupt system which had prevailed in every department of 
the Administration during the last two reigns, the commis¬ 
sariat had fallen into such disorder that the equipments of 
every kind were in a worse condition than the men them¬ 
selves. The clothing was scanty and bad in quality; the 
provisions were mouldy; the very weapons were rotten. All 
that he could attempt was to keep the enemy in check and 
prevent them from doing harm, and to discipline and 
prepare his own army for battle on a future day. And 
this he did. 

He advanced to the southern frontier of Ulster, and 
took up an entrenched position near Dundalk, from which 
De Rosen did not dare to try to dislodge him. For De 
Rosen, who was encamped to the south of the same town, 
was equally dissatisfied with the state of his troops ; and, not 

p 2 


212 


The English Revolution. 


suspecting that Schomberg’s were in equally bad condition, 
had resolved to retreat further if the old Marshal advanced 
further. But the autumn only rendered Schomberg’s army 
more ineffective than ever; for Dundalk lies low; the season 
was unusually wet even for Ireland ; the ground on which he 
was encamped became a marsh, and bred fever and pesti¬ 
lence among the men, till disease gradually reduced his effec¬ 
tive army to little more than half its original numbers. But 
still he held his ground, till, in November, De Rosen with¬ 
drew into winter quarters; and then he also did the same, 
falling back to the neighbourhood of Belfast, the port by 
which alone he communicated with England, and fixed his 
own head-quarters at Lisburn. 

Throughout the winter, great and successful exertions 
were made to place his army on a better footing. Schom- 
berg continued busily to train his own men, and a steady 
stream of reinforcements came over from England, till by 
the spring of the next year 30,000 men were ranged pnder 
his banner. And, what was of equal importance, supplies 
of all sorts, food, tents, arms, and means of transport were 
sent over in abundance. By the end of May the best ap¬ 
pointed army that had ever been seen in Ireland was ready 
to take the field, and it was understood that William 
himself was coming to place himself at its head. The 
intelligence was correct. On the 14th of June he landed at 
Carrickfergus, took the command of the army, and at once 
prepared for active operations. 

It was a critical moment for him to leave England, for 
he was aware that a numerous body of malcontents were 
holding treasonable communications with France; and that 
Louis was projecting an invasion of the island, and had 
already a fleet in the Channel far superior to any which 


James procures Troops from France. 213 

the utmost efforts of our Admiralty could provide to en¬ 
counter it. But he felt that, even in the event of a naval 
disaster, he could trust to the innate spirit of Englishmen 
to make an invasion impossible, or, if a landing were 
effected, to make England the grave or the prison of every 
foreign soldier who should set foot in it. And he rightly 
judged that Irish affairs would admit of no delay in deal¬ 
ing with them, while a decisive success gained in that 
country would be the best security of all against an attempt 
at an invasion of England, since it would deprive it of an 
object. As he said himself, he had not come to Ireland 
to let the grass grow under his feet. He was therefore 
desirous to bring matters to an immediate issue by a battle; 
and as soon as possible after his landing he began his march 
towards the south. 

James, on his part, was equally anxious to decide the 
quarrel by an appeal to arms; and, as soon as the news of 
his son-in-law’s presence in Ireland reached him at Dublin, 
he quitted the capital, and marched northward along the 
coast to meet him. He, too, was full of confidence. He 
had not, like Schomberg, spent the winter in disciplining 
the troops whose military qualities De Rosen had held so 
lightly in the preceding autumn; but he had made an 
exchange which he rated at a very high value. He had 
sent Louis some thousands of his Irishmen to serve in the 
French armies, and he had received in their stead several 
of those gallant French regiments which had carried terror 
into every country of the continent, and were generally 
accounted the best infantry in Europe. On the other 
hand, had he been able to appreciate the difference between 
the two commanders, he had sustained a loss which was 
likely more than to counterbalance the superiority of the 


214 


The English Revolution. 


French to the Irish battalion. The Count Lauzun had 
not unnaturally established for himself a solid footing in 
the favour of James and his Queen by the gallantry and 
address with which he had accomplished her escape to 
France. He was now desirous to add to the credit he had 
thus gained the glory of a successful general. He solicited 
the command of the regiments to be sent to Ireland, and 
easily persuaded both James and Mary of Modena to add 
their solicitations to his. Lpuis, against his better judgment, 
or rather against the judgment of his great war minister, 
Louvois, yielded to their importunities, though the em¬ 
ployment of Lauzun rendered it necessary to recall De 
Rosen. 

It was a most ill-advised change for James, for De 
Rosen, in spite of his pitiless ferocity, was a skilful general, 
and Lauzun had only the dashing gallantry of a knight- 
errant, no genius for war, and none even of that experience 
which often, in commanders not too severely tried, not in¬ 
adequately supplies the place of genius. Lauzun soon found 
out that it was unfortunate for himself also, for the beggarly 
condition of the country, the savage ignorance of the lower 
classes, the corruption of the higher ranks, and the quarrel¬ 
some and unmanageable character of all, after a very short 
residence among them, filled him with disgust, not un¬ 
mingled with despair. However, like a brave man as he 
was, he resolved to do his best with the materials he had, 
of which, to say the truth, he soon began to think James 
himself among the worst. 

On the 17th or 18th of June, he, with the King and the 
French regiments which he had brought over, marched 
northwards to De Rosen’s camp of the preceding year, at 
Ardee, a small town in Louth, a few miles to the south of 


William marches towards Dublin. 215 

Dundalk; his entire force, when united, being something 
under 30,000 men. 1 William collected his forces at Lousji- 
brickland, in the south of the county Down, and they at 
a review were found to be 36,000. He had therefore a 
decided superiority in number, and James determined to 
retreat, though he was resolved not to abandon Dublin with¬ 
out a battle. He fell back, and William pursued, at the 
distance of a day’s march behind him, till at last, when 
he reached the northern bank of the Boyne, opposite 
a small suburb of Drogheda called Oldbridge, he saw 
the Royal Standard side by side with the Lilies of 
France on the walls of the town, and the southern bank 
of the river lined with the army which he was chasing. 

That was the ground which Lauzun had chosen for his 
field of battle; and it was not ill-chosen, though when, 
early in the morning of the 30th of June 2 William came 
in sight of it, and saw the men and guns in position, his 
language was that of undoubting exultation, “ I am glad 
to see you gentlemen,” said he; “ if you escape me now, 
the fault will be mine.” Yet he could not but acknow- 


1 It is not possible to fix the number of James's army precisely. Mac¬ 
aulay, vol. III., p.623, without giving his authority, calls it “probably 
30,000 men.” Burnet states it at 26,000 (vol. II., p. 477). The Duke of 
Berwick, who was a man of scrupulous veracity, says William had 45,000, 
and James only 23,000 (vol. I., p. 69). His estimate of William's force 
must have been guess-work; but he must have had the best opportunity of 
knowing the strength of the army in which he himself served. King 
James himself in his Memoirs (quoted in Berwick, vol. I., p. 432), says he 
had no more than 20,000, and the Prince of Orange from 40,000 to 50,000, 
No reliance, however, can be placed on his calculations. Neither Dalrym- 
ple nor Macpherson give any numbers. Smollett speaks of the two armies 
as nearly equal. It seems probable that something between Berwick’s and 
Burnet’s statements was nearest the truth. 

2 The Duke of Berwick says William came in sight on the evening of 
the 29th, but he is clearly wrong; he fixes the battle on the 30th. 


2i 6 The English Revolution. 

ledge to himself that they could only be attacked at a 
disadvantage which it would require all his superioiity of 
numbers to counterbalance. The river was not very wide, 
but it was deep; there was no bridge nearer than Slane, 
nearly five miles higher up; and there were only two fords, 
one at Oldbridge, the other a little lower down the stream, 
nearer Drogheda itself. James’s whole army was stationed 
as if to guard the ford at Oldbridge. He had had time 
to strengthen his position with entrenchments and batteries, 
and the banks were naturally steep. So great, indeed, was 
the difficulty of forcing a passage, that Schomberg gave 
his voice against making the attempt. But William, taking 
a statesman’s view of his situation as well as a soldier’s, felt 
that nothing could be so mischievous as the appearance of 
hesitation, and issued orders that his whole army should be 
prepared to cross the river the next morning at daybreak. 

Yet there had nearly been no battle at all. In his eager- • 
ness to examine the enemy’s position thoroughly, William 
had kept close to the bank of the river, and, as their front 
lines were also close to the brink, he was so near to them 
as to be distinctly recognized, when, in the course of the 
morning, he sat down on the grass with his Staff, to take 
some refreshment. The French artillerymen quickly 
brought some guns to bear on the party, the first shot from 
which killed the horse of Prince George of Hesse, and the 
second struck William himself on the shoulder. A variation 
of a few inches would have changed the whole subsequent 
history of England, if not of Europe ; and for a moment, as 
the King sank down under the shock, both armies believed 
that he was killed. It was, however, soon ascertained that 
he had received nothing worse than a slight flesh wound. 
It was dressed, and he speedily reassured his anxious troops 


The Battle of the Boyne. 


217 


by showing himself again on horseback, and riding in review 
through their lines. 

The 1 st of July is a day which will never be forgotten in 
Ireland. The morning was clear. Soon after four o’clock, 
William was again on horseback, and began to put his 
troops in motion. One brigade he sent up to cross Slane 
Bridge and turn the enemy’s left flank, a movement which 
had a most decisive influence on the ultimate fortune of 
the day; for Lauzun, seeing that a single regiment of 
dragoons, which James had sent to hold the brigade in 
check, was repulsed and routed, led his French troops and 
a cavalry regiment, commanded by the celebrated Sars- 
field, to encounter it; and thus the best soldiers in 
James’s army were removed from Oldbridge, where the real 
struggle was to take place, and the defence of that all- 
important ford was left to the Irish regiments, which, under 
the best generals, were but little to be depended on, and 
which were now under no better guidance than that of James 
himself, with Lord Tyrconnel and Hamilton, who had been 
beaten at Newton Butler. 

Hamilton did, indeed, behave with most conspicuous 
courage. At first it seemed as if Schomberg’s division, 
which comprised the whole main body of William’s army, 
would be suffered to cross the river without opposition, for, 
the moment that it reached the centre of the stream, all the 
Irish infantry regiments fled, without venturing to cross 
swords with the enemy, or even to fire a single shot, but 
throwing away their colours, and even their arms, that no 
such encumbrances might delay their flight. 1 But the cavalry 

1 The Duke of Berwick (vol. I., p. 75), says, “ Nous ne perdions qu’en- 
viron mille hornmes, et il n'y eut que les troupes de M. Hamilton et les 
miennes qui combattirent.” 


218 


The English Revolution. 


was composed of better materials, and Hamilton, putting 
himself at their head, plunged into the river, and for some 
time maintained a desperate fight with the regiments of 
French refugees, in whom Schomberg, not unnaturally, 
placed great reliance. Had Lauzun been at hand to 
support Hamilton as he deserved, his valour might have 
had an important influence on the result of the battle. 
The commander of the Frenchmen, a noble countryman 
of their own, M. la Caillemotte, was struck down, and 
Schomberg thought the moment so critical as to require 
his personal exertions. Without waiting to put on his 
cuirass, he plunged into the river, to supply la Caillemotte’s 
place. “ Come on,” he cried to his men, who had wavered 
on seeing their leader’s fall; “ come on, gentlemen, there 
are your persecutors !” and he plunged into the'fight. 

William had lately made him a Knight of the Garter, 
and he wore his blue ribbon on this day. Whether, as some 
accounts state, 1 Hamilton’s men mistook him for William 
himself, and singled him out as the special mark for their 
utmost exertions, or whether, as others report, in the 
confusion some of his own soldiers shot him from behind, 
is uncertain, but he fell dead. Luckily, William himself 
came up at the moment on the southern side of the river. 
He had had a second narrow escape, for the tide was 
flowing when he crossed, and was running with such strength 
as to carry his horse off his legs. But at last he landed 
safely, and galloped at once to the scene of action. His 
dangers were not yet over. Hamilton’s troopers, though now 
attacked on both sides, still fought stoutly; friend and foe 

1 The Duke of Berwick, ib .— “Schomberg fut tue par un exempt et 
quelques gardes-du-corps, lesquels le prirent, a cause de son cordon bleu, 
pour le Prince d'Orange.” 


The Battle of the Boyne. 


219 


were mingled together, and in the height of the struggle 
an Enniskillen dragoon put a pistol to William’s head. 
The King calmly put it aside with his hand. “ What,” said 
he, “ do you not know your friends ?” He was recognized, 
and with a loud cheer the dragoons closed round him to 
protect him for the future, and pressed on the enemy with 
a resolution that became men who had such a leader. At 
last, after performing prodigies of valour, Hamilton himself 
was severely wounded, and taken prisoner, and with his 
capture the battle was over. James himself had taken no 
part in the battle, contenting himself with watching it from a 
hill in the rear during its earlier conflicts ; but, when the 
French regiments began to make their way through the 
stream, and William came up on his side of the river, he 
was seized with alarm lest his retreat should be cut off, and 
fled with precipitation to Dublin. 

The loss on both sides was very slight. The defeated 
army did not lose above 1,000 men, for indeed the greater 
part of it ran away without even coming to blows. Those 
who fell on William’s side did not exceed half that number; 
but the deaths of M. la Caillemotte and of Schomberg 
might fairly have been reckoned to make the loss of the 
two armies equal. Another man who had lately made him¬ 
self a great reputation had also fallen, but without being 
so much regretted by the conqueror. Walker, whose ex¬ 
hortations and example had roused the citizens of Derry 
to their noble resistance, had lately been rewarded with the 
Bishopric. Certainly his place was no longer with an 
army; but he had acquired a taste for fighting, and had 
marched, uninvited and unwished for, to the Boyne. He 
had plunged into the river with Schomberg, and had fallen 
by a chance shot. But, when his death was reported, it 


220 


The English Revolution. 


produced no comment from William, who had no fancy 
for seeing civilians, and much less parsons, interfering in 
soldiers’ work, but a half-indignant inquiry, “What took 
him to the ford?” which, had he survived, would have been 
felt as more than half a reproof. 


221 


CHAPTER XI. 


James returns to France—William arrives in Dublin—He is repulsed from 
Limerick by Sarsfield —He returns to England—The Earl of Marl¬ 
borough reduces Cork and Kinsale—The French regiments are with¬ 
drawn—The Rapparees—General St. Ruth takes the command— 
William goes with Marlborough to Flanders—General Ginkell com¬ 
mands in Ireland—Ginkell takes Athlone—The Battle of Aghrim — 
Galway surrenders—Sarsfield throws himself into Limerick—The 
two treaties of Limerick—Many of Sarsfield’s soldiers emigrate 
with him to France. 


James fled with such speed, that he reached Dublin that 
very evening. The next morning he summoned the Lord 
Mayor, and some of the principal citizens who adhered to 
him, and announced to them his intention to return to 
France without delay. The loss of the battle he attributed 
to the cowardice of the Irish troops, and declared that he 
would never command an Irish army again; but they, when 
they heard his denunciation of them, threw the blame 
with quite as much justice on himself. “ Complaints of 
cowardice,” they said, “ came ill from him who had been 
the first to fly,” and “ if the English would only change 
Kings with them, they would fight the battle over again.” 

It is certain, however, that James himself had not 
originally been a coward. In the battle of the Downs, he 
had led a brigade of Irish royalists against the English 
division with a gallantry which had earned the praise of 


222 


The English Revolution. 


the intrepid Conde. He had been Commander-in-Chief 
in the great victory which, in the summer of 1665, his 
brother’s fleet had gained over the Dutch; but ever since 
William had landed in Torbay, he had seemed unmanned ; 
his every act was weak, wavering, and timorous; and he 
was never resolute except when some shameful piece of 
pusillanimous folly was to be committed; as when he 
twice fled from England in the preceding year, and fled 
from Ireland now. 

On dismissing the Lord Mayor he once more mounted 
his horse and continued his flight. Riding all day and all 
night, with only two brief halts to take refreshment, he 
reached Waterford the next morning; there he found a 
small vessel in which he coasted to Kinsale ; a French 
frigate conveyed him to Brest, and from Brest he proceeded 
to St. Germains, which he scarcely ever quitted again during 
his life. He seemed not the least cast down by his re¬ 
verses, but told the whole story of his late campaign, his 
defeat, and his escape from the field of battle, to every one 
who would listen to him, with as great indifference as if 
his own fortunes had not been involved in it. But the 
French nobles, whose feelings of loyal respect were more 
than once severely tried in this reign by the care with which 
their own Sovereign kept himself out of danger, felt nowise 
bound to conceal their sentiments on the pusillanimity o'’ a 
foreign Prince; and remarked to one another that they 
only required to hear the King of England tell his own 
story to understand why he was at St. Germains and his 
son-indaw at St. James’s. 

Not that the Irish war was over with his flight. Lauzun 
had collected the relics of his army, and had followed him 
to Dublin, reaching that city at daybreak on the 2nd; but, 


223 


William besieges Limerick. 

not venturing to remain there, he marched westward with 
Tyrconnel, traversing the whole island till he reached 
Limerick. William also had hastened to Dublin* where, 
on the Sunday after the battle, he went in state, with the 
royal crown on his head, to St. Patrick's Cathedral to 
return thanks to God for his victory; and he had intended, 
after making himself master of Waterford, that he might 
secure a safe harbour for the reception of reinforcements 
and supplies, to return to England. But intelligence which 
he presently received from the Queen, determined him to 
remain a little longer; and early in August he marched 
against Limerick, hoping to finish the war by the reduction 
of that city, which now contained all that was left of James’s 
army. From the reports of its condition which had reached 
him, he believed that it could not resist his attack for a 
single day; and Lauzun agreed with him; pronouncing with 
a contempt that exceeded his, that “ the ramparts might be 
battered down with roasted apples.” 

But Sarsfield, whose value the praises of the French 
officers had with difficulty led James to appreciate, thought 
otherwise. He had naturally a better opinion of his own 
countrymen than was entertained by the gay and rash 
Frenchman ; was confident that they would fight resolutely 
enough if resolutely led; and felt proudly conscious that 
he could both raise and restrain their courage. There was 
no doubt that to hold Limerick was an object of the 
greatest importance, if, after the Boyne, there was any 
possibility of eventual success; so Lauzun gladly con¬ 
sented to his making the attempt. He himself, with Tyr¬ 
connel, retired with his French infantry to Galway, and left 
Sarsfield with the Irish divisions, whose numbers had been 
very little diminished, and which still amounted to 20,000 


224 


The English Revolution . 


men, to defend the city, with the aid of a French general 
named Boisseleau, who, as Sarsfield was but a brigadier, was 
nominally Commander-in-Chief; and who was not unfit for 
the post, since he shared Sarsfield’s opinion of Irish courage 
when bravely commanded. The French cavalry, too, 
3,500 strong, was left behind to watch for any opportunity 
of aiding the garrison, or of impeding the King’s opera¬ 
tions, under the command of the young Duke of Berwick, 
who already began to give indications of that military 
talent, which eventually won him a high reputation among 
the great captains of his adopted country. 

On the 8th, William reconnoitred the defences in person, 
and his examination so entirely confirmed the description 
which he had received of'their inability to stand a 
cannonade, that he at once summoned the Governor to 
surrender; but Boisseleau replied that “ he wished to gain 
the Prince of Orange’s good opinions, and that he could 
not expect it if he did not defend his post well.” Not 
that he, or even Sarsfield himself, believed that the walls 
could resist the fire of a heavy battering train. But Sars¬ 
field had already conceived the possibility of preventing 
such an attack from being brought against them. 

William had outmarched his guns, which, with a long 
train of ammunition and provision-waggons, was follow¬ 
ing him slowly; but, as the body of his army was of 
course with the King, Sarsfield conjectured that the train 
could be but slenderly guarded, and resolved to intercept it. 
Stealing out of the city by night with a strong body of 
cavalry, he crossed the Shannon at Ivillaloe, and moving 
onwards through the wild mountain district which lies 
beyond that great river, he learnt the next day that the 
train was at hand. He kept his men back till night once 


Defence of Limerick . 


225 


more brought darkness to aid his plans, and then, when 
the artillerymen and escort, secure that their army was 
between them and any possible enemy, were all asleep, he 
fell upon them. The surprise was complete; every man 
but one was killed, and he was taken prisoner. Guns, 
ammunition, and provisions all were captured; Sarsfield 
destroyed the whole, and returned triumphantly to Limerick, 
where his brilliant success, the very first which his side had 
achieved since the beginning of the war, raised the spirits of 
the whole garrison. 

They now fought gallantly, and they fought every day ; for 
William was not of a temper to abandon his purpose for a 
single disaster. He constructed a battery of his field-pieces, 
and even they were powerful enough to breach such walls 
as those before him. The garrison, on their part, daily replied 
by a vigorous fire, which more than once endangered William 
himself, whose disregard of his personal safety frequently 
excited the apprehensions, and even provoked the expostula¬ 
tions, of his friends. But still the besiegers made way, though 
slowly; and by the end of the month sufficient impression 
had been made to warrant William in resolving on an 
assault. In truth, he could wait no longer, for he had 
nearly expended his ammunition. The weather, too, which in 
that part of Ireland is rarely dry in the autumn, began to 
give tokens of an impending change; and the losses which 
Schomberg’s army had sustained in the preceding years 
afforded a grave warning not to expose the troops again to 
Irish rains. 

Accordingly, early in the afternoon of the 27 th of 
August, a picked body of stormers marched to the 
breach. The garrison was taken by surprise, for such 
attacks were usually made under cover of the night, and 

Q 



226 


The English Revolution. 


the stormers easily forced their way into the town. But 
Sarsfield and his officers soon rallied their troops; the 
narrowness of the streets was eminently in favour of the 
less disciplined soldiers, and a terrible conflict took place. 
The citizens and even the women took part in the struggle 
with stones and missies of all kinds. Boisseleau sprang a 
mine, which caused great slaughter and greater confusion. 
One Irish officer, Brigadier Talbot, quitting the city by the 
gate with 500 men, passed under the walls, and re-entered 
again by the breach so as to take the storming party in the 
rear. After a fight of some hours, the trumpets sounded a 
retreat. The besiegers had lost, in killed and wounded, 
above 1,500 men. 1 William confessed a defeat by asking 
for a truce to bury his dead, which the Irish, in their exulta¬ 
tion, refused. He had no means of renewing the contest, 
for his powder was completely exhausted, and three days 
afterwards he raised the siege, and crossing from Waterford 
to Bristol, arrived in England on the 6th of September. 2 

1 Macaulay Isays the storming party consisted of 500 Grenadiers. The 
Duke of Berwick says, “ Le Prince d’Orange fit donner l’assaut general 
par dix mille homines.”—Vol. I., p. 77. 

2 There has been some dispute as to the weather which prevailed during 
the siege. Lord Macaulay, of course, adopts William’s own statement that 
his decision to raise the siege was in great measure caused by the heavy 
rains, and quotes two other accounts, which assert that the rains had begun 
to set in. On the other hand, the Duke of Berwick, who was in the imme¬ 
diate neighbourhood, affirms, with express reference to William's excuse, 
not only that there had not been a drop of rain for more than a month, but 
“ qu’il ne plut pas de trois semaines apres” (vol. I., p. 79). Neither Mac- 
pherson nor Dalrymple mention the weather at all. But Burnet states one 
fact which is irreconcilable with the belief that there had been much rain, 
if any. His words are, “ They (the Irish) also abandoned the posts which 
they had on the other side of the Shannon; upon which the King passed 
the river, which was then very low.” It certainly would have been the 
reverse of low if there had been the weather which Macaulay so graphi¬ 
cally describes. And another remark of the Bishop, that “ in that season 


The Earl of Marlborough's Expedition. 227 

He left his army in Ireland, for so far was his own depar¬ 
ture from implying any abandonment of the war, that strong 
reinforcements were at the same time on the point of setting 
sail from Portsmouth. 

England, at this time, had in the Earl of Marlborough an 
officer who, though as yet he had had but little opportunity 
of displaying it, was endowed with an innate and instinc¬ 
tive genius for war, of which Europe had hitherto seen no 
equal example. And he, as a member of Mary’s Council 
during the King’s absence, had pointed out some weeks 
before that the French had evidently abandoned all idea of 
invading England that year, and he consequently recom¬ 
mended the despatch of a strong division to the south of 
Ireland to reduce Cork and Kinsale, the two ports by which 
the communication with France was chiefly maintained. 
His suggestion was reported to the King, who approved the 
plan, entrusting its execution to Marlborough himself. 

The expedition was already waiting at Portsmouth for a 
fair wind; and, a fortnight after William reached England, 
Marlborough landed at Cork with 5,000 men. He was 
joined by a division of about equal strength from the army 
which had been withdrawn from Limerick, and he lost no 
time. Cork was well fortified, and the garrison was abun¬ 
dantly sufficient to man the works ; yet the siege only lasted 
four days. A well-armed fort defended the harbour; the 
task of silencing that Marlborough entrusted to the Admiral; 
the ramparts he breached himself at a point where his keen 
eye had detected a comparative weakness; and he was 

it used to rain long, and by that means the Shannon would swell and the 
ground would be apt to become deep,” seems to prove that it was the 
apprehension of coming bad weather, rather than the experience of rain 
which had already fallen, which chiefly determined William to retreat. 

Q 2 


228 


The English Revolution. 


preparing to storm the breach when the garrison hung out 
the white flag, and surrendered at discretion. 

He did not lose a moment, but that very evening he sent 
forward a brigade of cavalry to summon Kinsale. The 
Irish were as resolute there as at Limerick; but before such 
a commander as Marlborough they were not more successful 
than their comrades at Cork. The town was untenable, so 
they set fire to it, and threw themselves into two forts which 
had been constructed for its protection. He stormed one, 
named the Old Fort, killing or capturing the whole of the 
garrison. The other, the New Fort, was by far larger and 
stronger, but he drove mines under the outworks, battered 
the main walls, and in ten days had carried the counter¬ 
scarp, and made a practicable breach in the ramparts. He 
was preparing to storm it when the governor capitulated on 
condition of being allowed to withdraw his troops, a con¬ 
cession well earned by the gallantry of his defence. But 
all the stores of every kind, which were most abundant, as in 
a place which had been the chief receptacle of supplies from 
France, fell into the hands of the conqueror, who, before 
. the end of October, returned to England, having in five 
weeks accomplished all that he had recommended to be 
attempted, and having established the reputation, which no 
one admitted more cheerfully than William himself, of 
being as skilful in the execution as he was sagacious in 
the conception of great enterprises. 

And at the same time, though not in consequence of his 
success, Lauzun returned to France. When he retired from 
Limerick he reported the state of affairs in Ireland to his 
government as wholly desperate; and recommended the 
instant withdrawal of the French regiments. His advice 
was taken, and transports were sent to the western coast to 


Outrages of the Rapparees. 229 

bring off the men and himself. Yet even now France did 
not wholly abandon the contest. Lauzun was accompanied 
on his return to Paris by Tyrconnel; who, having no hope 
but in the re-establishment of his old master, was urgent in 
his entreaties for more assistance, though not exactly of the 
kind that had been given before. He laid the blame of 
most of the failures which had been experienced on the 
jealousies that had arisen between the Irish and French 
soldiers, but promised that if Louis would only supply them 
with arms and ammunition, and some experienced officers 
to guide their exertions, the Irish would be able to defend 
themselves, and still to preserve the country for James. 

•His advice was taken. During the winter, the southern and 
western counties of Ireland, wherever the English troops did 
not keep the natives in awe, were in a state of anarchy and a 
prey to the most miserable disorders. Gangs, under the new 
name of Rapparees, traversed the country, burning, plunder¬ 
ing, and often destroying what they could not carry away, 
without hindrance from James’s troops, who connived at, if 
they did not share in their outrages. But, with the spring, one 
last attempt was made to continue the war. General St. Ruth, 
who had made himself conspicuous in his own country by the 
zeal with which he had persecuted the Huguenots, was sent 
over with Tyrconnel from Paris to take the chief command; 
he brought with him also General d’Usson and 200 officers 
to discipline any new levies which might be raised, and 
ample supplies of all kinds. Tyrconnel, too, brought a 
patent of peerage by which James created Sarsfield Earl 
of Lucan, though history has not acknowledged the title. 
But the heroic Irishman did not need this tardy recognition 
of his merits to stimulate him to further exploits, and during 
the brief campaign that followed, co-operated with a perfect 


230 


The English Revolution. 


absence of national or professional jealousy with St. Ruth, 
and was still the soul of the Irish army. 

William had gone to Flanders to conduct the war in that 
country, taking Marlborough with him ; and had appointed 
a Dutch officer, General Ginkell, to the chief command in 
Ireland. Fortunately General Mackay, who, though defeated 
at Killiecrankie, had even in that day of disaster approved 
himself a stout officer, and General Talmash, who, in the 
campaign of the previous year in Flanders, had established 
a high reputation for skill and courage, were now sent to 
Serve under him. For St. Ruth, in spite of his cruelty, was 
a thorough soldier, energetic not only on the day of battle, 
but in preparing for it, and skilful in establishing discipline 
and order, and in rousing the spirit of his troops. The 
whole French army could probably have furnished no 
officer more suited to the work which had to be done, had 
it not been that a constant jealousy existed between him 
and Tyrconnel, and that he also regarded Sarsfield with 
similar feelings. 

In the latter part of June, Ginkell opened the campaign 
by the siege of Athlone, a town lying almost exactly in the 
centre of Ireland, and of great importance from its position 
on both sides of the Shannon. The river at that point, and 
for some distance on either side, forms the boundary of the 
two provinces Leinster and Connaught; and the part of 
the town which lies on the left bank, or in Leinster, was 
called the English, that which lay on the right, or in Con¬ 
naught, the Irish quarter. The two sections were united by a 
narrow stone bridge, which was protected by a castle on 
the right bank, built, as tradition reported, by King John. 
The river was deep, but there was one narrow ford a short 
distance lower down. To master the English quarter of 


The Siege of Athlone. 


231 


the town was easy; for, indeed, the greater part of it 
had been burnt down in the preceding winter by the Irish 
themselves. But on the Connaught side the Irish fought 
valiantly, and the river opposed an almost impassable barrier 
to the English troops. The bridge was so narrow that 
superiority of numbers was of little avail; and, in the daily 
conflicts which took place on it, fortune was nearly balanced. 

After two or three days of heavy cannonade, Ginkell did 
indeed beat in one side of the castle, and burnt one of two 
mills which stood on the bridge, and which the garrison had 
manned as outworks ; but at the same time his cannon-balls 
injured the bridge itself, and rendered it unsafe to cross, 
even if he could have forced it. He tried to repair it, but 
the garrison destroyed his works with grenades. He began 
to despair; while St. Ruth, who was encamped with his 
whole army in the immediate neighbourhood, was so confi¬ 
dent of eventual success, that he relieved the garrison with 
a fresh detachment of inferior troops whom he thought now 
sufficient to hold the town till the besiegers should withdraw. 
Ginkell himself was nearly of his opinion. His provisions 
were failing, while the injury done to the bridge made the 
Connaught side of the town stronger than ever. He called 
a council of war, a step rarely taken by men who are equal 
to responsibility, and who see their way to victory, but 
luckily the other generals were more hopeful than he. The 
ford was undoubtedly deep and narrow, and the landing on 
the other side was bad; but Talmash recommended that it 
should be tried; if but a few could effect a safe passage, it 
would then become practicable to throw pontoons across, 
and, if the further bank were once won, victory would be 
certain. 

He was supported in his advice by the Marquis de 


232 


The English Revolution. 


Ruvigny, the elder brother of La Caillemotte, who had 
fallen at the Boyne, and by the Duke of Wurtemberg, who 
had recently joined the army with a division of Danish 
troops; and Ginkell, though not without grave misgivings, 
yielded, and gave orders that the attempt should be made. 
It fell to Mackay’s brigade to make it; and the old Scotch¬ 
man, though he had confessed to sharing the doubts of the 
Commander-in-Chief, conducted the enterprise as cheerfully 
and vigorously as if he himself had planned it; Talmash, 
the Duke, with many other officers of rank accompanying 
him as volunteers. The passage was difficult and dangerous, 
but it was almost unresisted. St. Ruth was at his own 
quarters. General d’Usson, who commanded the garrison, 
was at dinner. Only a weak guard was watching the ford; 
and they, being taken by surprise, fled in dismay after firing 
a few ineffectual shots at the leading men. With very trifling 
loss the English reached the firm ground on the right bank. 
To lay down pontoons and to repair the broken bridge for 
the rest- of their comrades was the work of a very short 
time ; and by the time that a messenger reached St. Ruth 
with the news that the English were crossing, a whole 
division was established in strength in the Irish quarter, and 
the town was won. It was the 30th of June, the anniversary 
of the day on which, in the preceding year, William had 
come in sight of the Boyne. 

Deeply mortified, St. Ruth retreated towards Galway. 
Sarsfield recommended him to avoid a battle; since his 
troops, though superior in number to those of Ginkell, and 
tolerably steady behind walls, were too inferior in discipline 
to be safely trusted in a battle in the open field. Galway 
and Limerick, he said, might be defended as Limerick 
had been defended in 1690; and, if Ginkell advanced 


233 


The Battle of Aghrim. 

too far into Connaught, Sarsfield thought it even possible 
that he himself, with his cavalry, might make a success¬ 
ful dash upon Dublin, which was almost unprotected. But 
St. Ruth judged it necessary to his own credit to make 
amends for the loss of Athlone by an immediate victory; and 
having fallen back to Aghrim, where an old castle, a hill, 
and a morass afforded a strong position, he resolved there to 
try the fortune of a pitched battle. As Ginkell remained 
for some days in Athlone looking to the repair of the forti¬ 
fications, St. Ruth skilfully availed himself of the respite 
thus afforded him to strengthen his position with breast¬ 
works ; and at the same time he stimulated the courage of 
his soldiers by working on their feelings of religious en¬ 
thusiasm. By his directions the priests were daily busy in 
the ranks, reminding them that their religion was at stake, 
and making them swear on the sacrament never to desert 
their colours ; and thus the whole army was wrought up to 
a keen desire for battle, and to a resolution to efface the 
disgrace of the loss of Athlone, as eager as that which had 
prompted his own decision. 

It was the nth of July when Ginkell quitted Athlone, 
and after a march of ten miles came in sight of his enemy. 
He determined on attacking him at. daybreak the next day, 
but a fog and other circumstances prevented all operations 
in the early morning, and by the afternoon he began to feel 
something of his habitual irresolution. Again he called a 
council of war. Talmash recommended an instant attack; 
this time Mackay also agreed with him; their advice pre¬ 
vailed ; and, though by this time it was five o’clock, the 
whole army advanced to the attack. 

No fiercer battle had ever been fought in Ireland. The 
King’s troops were 20,000 men, St. Ruth’s were 5,000 more, 


234 7 /^? English Revolution. 

and had the advantage of the ground. On the other hand 
he had fewer guns, and his men were less accustomed to war, 
so that on the whole the conditions of the fight were not un¬ 
equal. Every step was stoutly contested. The English, in 
spite of the difficulties of the morass, pressed on with fearless 
heroism, but the Irish fought from behind their breastworks 
with equal vigour, and more than once dashed forward and 
drove them back. Mackay, who commanded the right 
wing, was forced to send to Talmash, whose task was to 
attack the castle, for aid. Talmash flew to support him. 
They laid hurdles over part of the bog, and thus made a 
narrow path; but an advance so won was necessarily slow. 
Many of their men fell, and Ginkell began to meditate a 
retreat. St. Ruth, on the other hand, thought the time 
was arrived for him to become the assailant in his turn. 
Waving his hat, he cheered on his men, shouting out that 
he would drive the Saxons back to Dublin. They were 
almost his last words : a few minutes afterwards a cannon¬ 
ball struck him on the head, and the battle, which had 
been doubtful till that moment, was doubtful no longer. 
His staff concealed his fall from his followers ; but there 
was no longer a head to guide their efforts. Sarsfield was 
in the rear with the reserve, and no one brought him word 
how greatly his presence was required in front. Presently 
Mackay got a sufficient force of cavalry through the bog at 
the extreme right of the line to attack the Irish in flank; 
Talmash still pressed on bravely in front, and at last their 
steadiness beat back the ardent but less sustained valour of 
their foes, now without a leader. After three hours of in- 
cessant fighting the Irish were broken and fled. 

It is painful to have to add, that the victorious soldiers 
sullied their glory by their merciless ferocity to the con- 


Death of Tyrconnel. 


235 


quered, whose gallantry merited a better fate. A large pro¬ 
portion of Ginkell’s army consisted of foreigners, Frenchmen, 
Danes, and Germans, accustomed to bloodier deeds than 
have usually accorded with the English temper. They pur¬ 
sued the fugitives with unrelenting butchery, giving no quar¬ 
ter. A dark and rainy night at last checked their pursuit, and 
enabled Sarsfield to cover the retreat of those who escaped, 
but not till 7,000 had been slain. The conquerors, on 
their part, did not buy their triumph cheaply; they lost 
600 slain and 1,000 wounded, but the victory was worth 
even that loss, for it was decisive of the war. 

Ginkell first marched westward to Galway, to which 
d’Usson had retreated. He capitulated on being allowed 
to retire with what regiments he had with him to Limerick. 
And to Limerick Ginkell once more followed him ; hoping, 
since that city contained all that now remained of the 
Irish army, to put an end to the war by its reduction. 
Sarsfield was already there. He had hastened to it from 
the field of battle, and, finding Tyrconnel there also, with 
the support of his authority, for James and James’s parti¬ 
sans still regarded him as Lord Lieutenant, he had done 
what could be done to strengthen the fortifications, and to 
victual the city for a siege. But Tyrconnel died a few days 
afterwards of apoplexy ; and Sarsfield soon learnt to de¬ 
spair of making a successful resistance, or even of protract¬ 
ing the defence till the autumnal rains should set in. 

Ginkell, flushed with his double success at Athlone and 
Antrim, carried on his operations with greater decision and 
skill than he had previously displayed. By a well-conceived 
attack on one of the bridges over the Shannon outside the 
walls, he cut off the communication between the garrison 
and a fine division of cavalry, the best troops remaining to 


236 The English Revolution. 

the enemy, which was encamped on the borders of the 
county Clare. An English fleet took its station at the 
mouth of the river, and stopped the only means of com¬ 
munication with France. And, seeing how weak he was 
within the city, and how destitute of all hope or possibility 
of aid from without, Sarsfield himself at last despaired, and 
opened a negotiation with Ginkell. He considered himself, 
and Ginkell regarded him, as authorized to treat on behalf of 
all the Roman Catholic party in Ireland. A careful discus¬ 
sion took place, in which Ginkell, who avowed his own ignor¬ 
ance of the English constitution and the views of English 
statesmen, was aided by Sir Charles Porter, who had been 
Lord Chancellor of the kingdom under Charles II.; and 
by Mr. Thomas Coningsby, an English Member of Parlia¬ 
ment who had acted as Paymaster-General of the Army of 
the Boyne; the two, with Lord Sidney, having been 
appointed Lords Justices to govern the kingdom when 
William returned to England in the preceding autumn. 

And eventually two treaties were concluded, a military 
treaty which was signed by Ginkell and Sarsfield, a civil 
treaty which was signed by Sarsfield and the two Lords 
Justices. The military treaty secured to all the Irish officers 
and soldiers who might wish to do so, liberty to depart to 
France, on giving up every town and fortress in their 
possession to William’s generals. The civil treaty, which, 
however, was carefully stated to be conditional on its 
eventually obtaining Parliamentary sanction, granted an 
amnesty to all who should take the oath of allegiance to 
the new Sovereigns; and secured the continuance to the 
Roman Catholics, throughout the island, of all such privileges 
in the exercise of their religion as were consistent with the 
law, or as they had enjoyed in the reign of Charles II. 


The Treaties of Limerick. 237 

Nor were they kept long in suspense or uncertainty, as 
to the willingness of the English Parliament to ratify it. 
The Parliament met in November; the Ministers pressed 
its ratification earnestly, as that to which they were bound 
to agree, by every principle of national good faith; and, 
though the Commons did for a moment desire to add the 
obligation of taking the oath of supremacy, and the decla¬ 
ration against Transubstantiation, to the oath of allegiance, 
they allowed themselves to be persuaded, and the Chief 
Justice of England was ordered to prepare a bill to give 
the treaty legal effect. 

The military treaty was carried out with equal integrity, 
though its execution was not unaccompanied with disappoint¬ 
ment and mortification to the authorities in William’s interest. 
Sarsfield, who had made up his mind to take service in the 
French army, was naturally desirous to increase his own 
importance in the eyes of his new master by carrying over 
with him as large a force as he could persuade to accompany 
him. He called in the co-operation of the Roman Catholic 
clergy, who exerted on his side all that religious pressure 
which their religion enables them to put upon their flocks. 
In long and earnest sermons they declared that for any one 
to remain and enter the service of a heretic Prince was to 
imperil their souls ; they, at the same time, held out the 
prospect that they would soon be led back, with a host of 
French allies, to reconquer their native land, and to restore 
it to its lawful Sovereign. It was believed that they added 
the stimulus of brandy to their pious exhortations ; and 
Sarsfield was even accused of employing force, and of 
putting officers under arrest who hesitated to promise to 
adhere to him. 

Ginkell, on the other hand, was equally desirous to retain 


238 The English Revolution. 

men who had shown how gallantly they could fight if well 
commanded, and whom, if they should follow Sarsfield to 
France, his King might soon have to encounter in Flanders. 
And he issued a proclamation assuring safety and protection 
to all who should choose to remain in Ireland, and honourable 
employment to all who would enlist in his army. But with 
the great majority Sarsfield and the priests prevailed. Many, 
indeed, who at first promised to embark found their hearts 
fail at the last moment, but still a very considerable force 
followed their gallant general 1 They reached Brest in safety, 
and in the spring were formed into separate regiments ; the 
men of the better class being even honoured by being allowed 
to compose two companies of body-guards, one of which 
was commanded by the Duke of Berwick, the other by 
Sarsfield himself. He died a soldier’s death on the hard- 
fought field of Landen; and they established for them¬ 
selves and for their country a reputation for gallantry both 
brilliant and steady in every country in which the French 
armies waged war during the remainder of Louis’s reign. 
But the hope that had been held out to them of returning 
to reconquer Ireland was never realized. James made no 
further attempt to recover the throne which he had lost by 
any enterprise of open honourable war. 

William had been crowned King of Ireland in Dublin on 
the 5th of November in the preceding year; but that event 

1 Lord Macaulay, who says that one regiment, in which 1,400 men had 
promised to go to France, when the day came furnished only 500, would 
seem to imply that the whole number who eventually went did not exceed 
5,000 or 6,000 men. The Duke of Berwick states them at “ about 20,000,” 
and cannot be very wrong, for he says Louis formed them into nine infantry 
regiments of two battalions ; two of dragoons on foot; two of cavalry ; and 
two companies of Gardes-du-corps, one of which was given to him and the 
other to Lord Lucan (Sarsfield).—Vol. I., p. 106. 


End of the Civil War . 


239 


was rather the assumption of the royal title than the 
establishment of it, for his right to it was denied in the 
southern and western counties, in half of the kingdom. 
Now, on the other hand, it was universally recognized. 
With the departure of Sarsfield, all resistance to the new 
Government was at an end. In order to assure the popula¬ 
tion of those districts which had been the scene of the last 
campaign, William issued a proclamation announcing that 
the civil war was terminated ; and in Ireland also the revolu¬ 
tion was accomplished. 


240 


CHAPTER XII. 

Much remains to be done in England after the settlement of the Govern¬ 
ment—Real character of the Revolution—Many legislative measures 
are still necessary—Composition of the ministry—The Toleration 
Bill—The Comprehension Bill—The Case of the Nonjurors—William 
issues an Act of Grace—The Bill of Rights—Question of the suc¬ 
cession after the death of the Princess Anne—Birth of the Duke of 
Gloucester—The subsequent Act of Settlement—Gradual change in the 
mode of administration and character of a Ministry—Disqualification 
of placemen for seats in the House of Commons—The Triennial Bill, 
altered at a later period to a Septennial Bill—Purification of the 
coinage—Expiration of restrictions on the Press—Establishment of 
Newspapers. 


When William and Mary accepted the crown which was 
formally tendered to them by the Parliament of England, 
and by the Estates of Scotland, and when, having been 
already crowned in Dublin, William was able to proclaim 
that civil war and all resistance to his authority was termi¬ 
nated in Ireland also, the revolution was in one sense accom¬ 
plished. A change in the reigning dynasty had been effected, 
and the new Sovereigns acknowledged that they held their 
authority by a different title from that which their predeces¬ 
sors had claimed as belonging to them. But in another 
point of view there was still much to be done. The change 
which had been made, great and important as it was, was 
not the whole of the revolution for which those who had 
brought about that change were anxious, nor for which all 
succeeding generations of Englishmen down to the present 


241 


The Declaration of Right. 

time have been and still are grateful. To them the Revo¬ 
lution has been something more. It has been practically the 
foundation of a new Constitution. 

Up to this time the Constitution had too often been but 
a name. There had existed indeed for centuries laws and 
charters which had guaranteed to the English and Irish 
people all those privileges which are essential parts of 
real freedom, liberty of person, never to be violated except 
as a punishment for offences; and security for property, 
so that no King should be able to take the money 
of any subject unless by his own consent, duly signified 
by himself or by his representatives in Parliament. And 
when Scotland became subject to the same Sovereign 
as England and Ireland, that country also obtained its 
equal share of the freedom granted or confirmed to all 
by the Great Charter. But these inestimable charters 
and laws had been frequently violated by despotic sove¬ 
reigns, so frequently, indeed, that in some notorious 
instances, the judges had pronounced that the precedents 
of such violation were so strong as to override the written 
law; and the great men who took the lead in bringing 
about the Revolution rightly felt that it would be a nullity 
if they failed so to avail themselves of the opportunity which 
it offered them, as to take securities that no such violations 
of the people’s rights should be possible in future. That 
they were aiming at no new thing, but that these rights did of 
old belong to the people, was implied in the very title of 
the memorial which was read to the new Sovereigns before 
they were requested to accept the Crown, “ The Declara¬ 
tion of Right.” But that declaration required the ratifica¬ 
tion of a formal Parliamentary enactment to give it entire 
permanent validity. And a necessity for some other laws 


242 


The English Revolution . 


which were more open to the charge of novelty had also 
arisen out of the recent change. 

And to those steps towards the completion and security 
of the Revolution which depended on the action of Parlia¬ 
ment, the two Houses at once began to apply themselves 
without delay. The first thing to be done by them, as a 
necessary preliminary to give validity to all their other acts, 
was obviously the vindication of their right to be regarded 
as a Parliament; for they had not been summoned by royal 
writ, and till the acceptance of the Crown by the new 
Sovereign, they had been contented to call themselves a 
Convention. Many of the Tory members were inclined to 
deny that any power existed by which the Convention could 
be turned into a Parliament, and recommended an instant 
dissolution ; but such a recommendation was embarrassed 
by one insurmountable inconsistency, for it was plain that 
a new Parliament could only be held under writs, issued by 
William; and that those writs could-have no validity if he 
were not King, lawfully appointed by a Parliament or by a 
body in all respects equal to, and possessing all the rights 
and authority of, a Parliament; so that, in fact, the issue 
of such writs, and the obedience to be paid to them by the 
constituent bodies would be a recognition of the fact that 
they were superfluous; and that a Parliament of full com¬ 
petence and power already existed. 

These irresistible arguments were strengthened, if they 
required strengthening, by the fact that, within the memory 
of the existing generation, a precedent had occurred which 
was exactly in point. The Convention which had restored 
Charles II. had had no royal writs to call it together, but the 
validity of its acts had been upheld by lawyers of all parties. 
William and his chief advisers accepted this precedent as 


243 


Composition of the Ministry. 

conclusive ; and, before the end of the week in which he 
had been proclaimed, he went down to the House of Lords, 
and, having summoned the Commons, addressed to both a 
speech of the same character as those with which former 
Kings had been accustomed to open former Parliaments. 
When he had retired, the Earl of Nottingham,'as Secretary 
of State, brought in a bill for declaring the Convention 
a Parliament; which, though it was fiercely debated in a 
committee of the House of Commons, was speedily passed 
and received the royal assent; and, lest anything should be 
wanting to establish its authority in the eyes of future 
generations, one of the first bills brought into the next 
Parliament formally recognized the validity of every act 
passed by this one, both while sitting with the title of a 
Convention and after it had changed that title to that of a 
Parliament. 

On the propriety of this measure all the advisers of 
William were agreed. Other measures were, in several 
instances, a compromise between the different parties in the 
ministry, though the word in the sense in which we now use 
it was not applicable to the men on whom William at first 
conferred ministerial offices, nor to those who had held such 
appointments under any previous Sovereign. Such a body 
of men as is now called to the councils of the Sovereign, 
all agreeing in all measures of policy, both foreign and 
domestic, and all being jointly responsible for every act of 
the Government, was as yet unknown. The responsibility 
of each official was limited to his own department. One 
minister had thought himself at liberty to oppose bills brought 
in by another minister; nay, in the reign of Charles II. 
there had even been instances of one secretary of state 
being forward in promoting the impeachment of- another. 

R 2 


244 The English Revolution. 

And so, on first coming to the throne, William selected 
his chief officers on the principle of balancing one party 
against another, and conciliating all by allowing to all a 
share of ministerial power. The Earl of Danby, who, as 
minister of Charles II., had been with difficulty saved from 
impeachment, and was accounted the especial champion 
and leader of the Tories, was made President of the 
Council. The Marquis of Halifax, by far the ablest and 
most virtuous of the Whig nobles, became Lord Privy Seal. 
Of the two Secretaries of State one, the Earl of Notting¬ 
ham, held the same opinions as Danby, the other, the Earl 
of Shrewsbury, agreed with Halifax. Lord Delamere, son 
of the Earl of Warrington and a Whig, was Chancellor of 
the Exchequer; the most important and most efficient of 
the subordinate Lords of the Treasury was Lord Godolphin, 
a Tory. The first Lord of the Treasury was a vehement 
Whig, Lord Mordaunt, the same nobleman who, two years 
before the revolution, had urged William to invade 
England; but, though that office is the one of which the 
possession now indicates the Prime Minister, in this in¬ 
stance it was the least important of all; for it was 
commonly understood that it did not become a King of 
England to be a Roi faineant, but that it belonged to him, 
even if he did not take under his care the especial manage¬ 
ment of one department, to exercise a general superinten¬ 
dence over all; and William was his own prime minister, 
reserving to himself also the special and exclusive manage¬ 
ment of the foreign affairs of the kingdom. 

It was probably from his taking so prominent a part in 
the administration, in a way which no subsequent King has 
imitated, and which would now be thought altogether un¬ 
constitutional, that the first measure submitted to the 


Condition of the Religions Sects. 245 

Parliament was not the Bill of Rights, for which the leading 
statesmen might have been supposed to be most anxious, 
but one which he himself was personally desirous to carry, 
a Toleration Bill. 

After the Restoration, the Parliament of Charles II. had 
retaliated on the tyranny with which the Puritan party had 
trampled down the Church with a persecution which was 
almost equally irrational and oppressive. All Noncon¬ 
formists were classed together ; attendance on any place of 
worship, except those of the Established Church, was made 
a crime, which, on repetition, might be punished with trans¬ 
portation ; and the officiating ministers were exposed to even 
heavier penalties than the congregations. The King could 
not contemplate such a state of things without grave dis¬ 
approval. He himself was a Calvinist, and, as such, more 
disposed to agree in doctrine with the Presbyterians of 
Scotland than with the English Churchmen; though as a 
form of Church government he preferred Episcopacy; but 
he did not attach great importance to any forms, and, as a 
statesman and a King, was more anxious that all his 
subjects should be contented with the justice and modera¬ 
tion of his civil government than that they should be 
drilled into a reluctant uniformity in religion, even had it 
been possible to enforce such uniformity by laws. 

In compliance with these feelings of his master, Notting¬ 
ham, before the end of March, introduced two bills into the 
House of Lords, one to establish a toleration of Protestant 
sectaries ; the other, which was called a Comprehension Bill, 
being designed to lessen the number of those who would be 
benefited by the first, by introducing such alterations in 
the Liturgy and discipline of the Church as should, it was 
hoped, induce the more respectable of the Nonconformist 


246 The English Revolution. 

sects to reunite with it. They were neither of them new 
measures; for, as Lord Nottingham told Burnet, they 
were the very same which he had drawn in the reign of 
Charles II., with the intent that they should follow the 
Exclusion Bill if the House of Lords had consented to 
pass that measure. 

The Comprehension Bill had a singular fate. Its most 
important clauses were two, the first of which went to 
relieve the clergy from the obligation of signing the Thirty- 
nine Articles, and substituted for that subscription a 
declaration of assent to the doctrine and government of 
the Church of England; the second enabled Presbyterian 
ministers to hold benefices in the Church without reordina¬ 
tion. A later clause provided for a revision, or at least a 
reconsideration of the canons and ecclesiastical courts. It 
was not strange that such a measure should be opposed by 
the extreme High Churchmen, and even by some who be¬ 
longed neither to that party nor to that of the extreme Low 
Church, for, though the name be new, there has always 
been a third or Broad Church party also. But it was 
opposed by the Nonconformists themselves, by those sects 
whom the proposed concessions would not have satisfied, 
lest they should be weakened by the secession of those 
other sects which would be led by them to join the Church ; 
and even by many of those whom they would have satisfied, 
and especially by many of the Presbyterian ministers, who, 
had the Bill passed, would have been unable to find any 
plea for remaining separate from the Church, but who felt 
that an union with it would diminish their personal impor¬ 
tance, their exclusive influence over their flocks, and 
in many instances the emoluments derived from their 
liberality. 


The Toleration Act . 


247 


Nottingham, therefore, naturally not anxious, and perhaps 
not able, to carry a Bill which pleased no one, not even those 
for whose benefit it had been framed, suffered the Compre¬ 
hension Bill to drop. But the Toleration Act was passed. 
And, though some of its clauses seemed contradictory of 
one another, and though others still imposed certain restric¬ 
tions on religious freedom which were hardly compatible 
with its title, it practically removed all the grievances which 
for the last twenty eight-years had pressed upon the 
different dissenting bodies, and secured to all Protestant sects 
liberty to worship God according to their conscience, so 
long as they did not disturb or endanger the public peace. 
The only obligation imposed upon them was that they 
should prove their loyalty to the new settlement, by taking 
the oaths of allegiance and supremacy, and by signing a 
declaration against the cardinal doctrine of the Romish 
Church, transubstantiation. This last clause was obviously 
intended to debar the Roman Catholics from profiting by 
the Act. Indeed it was expressly mentioned in the Act 
that it was not designed to afford the smallest indulgence 
to the Papists. 

But it was singular and lamentable that matters so turned 
out that those who eventually suffered most from the new 
legislation on these subjects were a small party among the 
Churchmen themselves. Among the earliest laws passed 
by the Parliament, one very naturally enacted that no per¬ 
son should in future be admitted to any office, temporal or 
spiritual, without taking an oath of allegiance to the reign¬ 
ing Sovereign. The same obligation was with equal reason 
imposed upon all existing holders of civil or military offices. 
But a great effort was made to exempt the present holders 
of ecclesiastical and academical preferments from the same 


248 The English Revolution. 

obligation. They were not, like magistrates, concerned in 
the administration of the laws; they were not, like soldiers, 
liable to be called on to defend the new Government in 
arms. And it was well known that many of the most emi¬ 
nent of the whole order of clergy for rank, virtue, and 
ability, though perfectly willing to live peaceably and loyally 
under the new Government, had scruples about taking a 
uew oath to a new Sovereign, while the old Sovereign, to 
whom they had formerly sworn allegiance, was still living. 
It was equally plain that the new Government would be 
in no danger if the new oaths were not tendered to such 
men. 

And these considerations had such weight with the Peers, 
that, in the Bill imposing the oaths on the laity and on all 
clergy who should subsequently be appointed to any office, 
they inserted a clause exempting all present holders of 

ecclesiastical benefices, unless the Government should have 

\ 

cause to call on any individual priest to give such proof of 
his loyalty. But the Commons rejected it. William’s con¬ 
duct was singular, and less in accordance with his usual 
moderation and his statesmanlike equity than perhaps any 
other of his acts. He saw no necessity for imposing the 
oaths on those whom the Peers thus proposed to exempt. 
Even had their disposition been different, the smallness of 
their number prevented their being formidable. But he 
hoped to make the concession, to which he saw no reason 
in itself to object, the instrument to effect a compromise. 

The Test Act was unrepealed, and therefore, as the law 
stood, even after the passing of the Toleration Act, no 
Nonconformist would be eligible for employment. He 
desired to obtain a relaxation of this requirement. And he 
was aware that the Tories, who were the chief sticklers for 


The Test Act. 


249 


its retention, were also those who were most anxious to pro¬ 
cure indulgence for those clergymen who scrupled to take 
the new oaths. On the other hand, the Whigs, who wished 
to impose the new oaths on the clergy, were generally not 
disinclined to remove the remaining disabilities from the 
Protestant Dissenters. It occurred to him, therefore, to 
induce both parties to give way on one point; to persuade 
the Tories to consent to a modification of the Test Act, 
and the Whigs to abstain from forcing the new oaths on 
the beneficed clergy. But, on trying his own influence on 
the leaders of these parties, he found that even the Whigs 
were at the moment not specially eager for the repeal or 
modification of the Test Act, while the Tories were 
as firm or as obstinate as ever in their opinion of its 
necessity. 

And, being thus disappointed in his prospect of pro¬ 
curing relief for the Dissenters, he resolved to let the 
Whigs have their own way as to the imposition of the new 
oaths on all the Protestant clergy. To impose them under 
penalty of deprivation was, in fact, to punish those whose 
consciences forbade them to take them, not for their own 
fault, but for the unconciliatory stubbornness of their lay 
champions in Parliament. And, as his willingness to dis¬ 
pense with enforcing the oaths showed his entire conviction 
that the enforcement of them was unnecessary, it is not 
easy to justify his sanction of the conduct of the two 
Houses in imposing them. For, after a long contest between 
the Houses, and many conferences, the Peers finally gave 
way; and the Act, as passed, required every holder of 
ecclesiastical preferment to take the oaths by the 1st of 
August, under penalty of suspension. But, as that date 
gave those affected but brief time for consideration, they 


250 


The English Revolution. 

were allowed a respite of six months, during which those 
who had at first refused the oaths might reconsider their 
decision. If by the ist of February, 1690, they had not 
taken them, they were then to be at once deprived of all 
preferments and left to starve; the severity of the measure 
being, if possible, aggravated by the mockery of a clause 
which was added to enable the King to grant a small pen¬ 
sion, which should not exceed one-third of the income 
taken from them, to twelve of those who had been 
deprived. 

It was not to theoretical objections alone that the enact¬ 
ment was liable, beyond all question it was also practically 
injurious to the Church and to the cause of'religion in the 
country. When the day came which had been fixed for the 
deprivation of all who had abstained from taking the oaths, 
it was found that those who had incurred the threatened 
penalty amounted to about 400 ; and among them were some 
of the highest in station, and the most eminent for virtue and 
talent in the whole body. 1 The Primate himself was of the 
number, and with him six Bishops, four of them being among 
those whom James had prosecuted in the preceding year; 
but who were too rigidly conscientious to be biassed in 
their interpretation of their duty by any feeling of personal 
injury. 

The transaction presents one of those unhappy cases in 
which both parties were wrong. It is impossible to agree with 
the nonjurors, as those who refused to take the oaths were 
called, as to the reasonableness of their scruples, which 
Dr. Johnson has well described as “the perverseness of 

• However, Sancroft and his brethren were not at once expelled from their 
palaces, nor Sherlock from his house in the temple.—-Sv* Macaulay, 
vol. III., p. 534. 


Deprivation of the Nonjurors. 


251 


integrity,” 1 since hardly one of the whole number doubted 
the propriety of acquiescing in the existing Government, or 
of continuing to perform the duties of his post in conformity 
to its regulations. While, as such a course of action would 
have been a direct disregard of James’s orders, it was practi¬ 
cally as entire a transference of their allegiance to William 
as could have been made by their taking of the oaths; and 
it is not easy to see the consistency of refusing to swear 
allegiance to a Prince to whom the person concerned is 
willing to render it. Nay, the most eminent of the whole 
body, Ken, Bishop of Bath and Wells, admitted that it was 
quite possible to conceive a degree of misgovernment which 
would have justified him in renouncing his obedience to 
James, but only doubted whether, in the instance before 
him, there was sufficient proof that that degree had been 
reached. 

We must therefore blame those who refused, since such 
refusal could only be justified by solid and consistent 
reasons; but we must at the same time blame William for 
permitting them to be driven to the alternative, since he 
himself judged it unnecessary, and only sanctioned it 
because he was provoked by the impracticable temper of 
the Houses of Parliament on another subject which had no 
connection with the oaths in question. As he could not 
pretend the slightest fear that the men thus deprived would 
plot against his Government if they continued to hold their 
preferments, it was impolitic to deprive the Church of their 
ministrations. It was even more impolitic to throw such 

1 “ Life of Fenton,” p. 1. Fenton was not a clergyman, but an under¬ 
graduate of Cambridge, who was prevented from obtaining a degree by 
his refusal to take the oaths. He, however, seems to have had his scruples 
terminated by the death of James, since a note in the passage (Ed. 1790, 
vol. III., p. 311) states that he did take his degree in 1704. 


252 The English Revolution. 

men into the arms of those lay Jacobites who were un¬ 
friendly to his Government; and he must have expected 
such a result of their expulsion, as ensued; that many of 
them would be received into the houses of the wealthier 
J acobites, as chaplains or tutors; by their mere presence 
keeping alive and inflaming their patrons’ hostility to the 
new dynasty; and that others w r ould collect congregations 
of malcontents, and be almost driven to inculcate a dis¬ 
loyalty which would have been far from their own minds if 
they had been left in peace. 

We may see another proof that William, in his sober 
judgment, disapproved of the exaction of these oaths, in 
the anxiety which he showed for the speedy carrying out of 
another measure which was also brought under the con¬ 
sideration of Parliament before the Bill of Rights, a general 
amnesty. He was a brave soldier; he was a sagacious 
statesman ; he was a consummate diplomatist: but his 
highest claim to our respect and admiration is, that he was, 
in the fullest sense of the words, a magnanimous ruler, 
utterly free from fear, and (except in one memorable in¬ 
stance, in which he was resenting not injuries to himself, 
but insults to her whom he had loved) from vindictiveness. 
And his generosity combined with his policy in prompting 
him to wish to give all parties confidence in his Government, 
by showing that he regarded none with disfavour. With 
these feelings, in the very first month after he had accepted 
the Crown, he recommended the Houses to pass a general 
act of pardon and oblivion, which should comprehend all 
parties and all individuals, except such as, during the reigns 
of Charles or James, had given the Crown such pernicious 
advice as might justly render them liable to impeachment; 
or those who, under the cloak of the royal authority, had 


The Act of Grace . 


253 


committed crimes of which the ordinary law might properly 
take cognizance. For adhering to James during the period 
between the landing of William and the presentation of 
the Crown to the Queen and himself three months after¬ 
wards, no one w r as to be called in question. 

No act could possibly be more necessary to give stability 
to the Revolution ; for so long as a large party was com¬ 
pelled to be discontented by its fears, there could be no 
security for the peace of the kingdom. Nevertheless, the 
King’s recommendation had but little influence with the 
Houses. Party feeling is never magnanimous ; the Whigs, 
who in the time of Charles II. and James II. had hated 
the Tories with an enmity which was often personal and 
mortal, hated them still more now, when, from a belief that 
the new Sovereign could not fail to regard them with 
suspicion, they expected to have them at their mercy. 
The Bill of Indemnity was evaded in one session. In 
the next, the majority of the Commons refused even to go 
into committee on it, but framed, as a rider to it, a Bill of 
Pains and Penalties which would have included hundreds. 
William prorogued the Parliament; and as he saw that it 
was hopeless to expect such a measure from a body of 
which both sections were animated by the bitterest party 
spirit, he took the matter into his own hands, and in May, 
1690, after a new Parliament had been elected, sent down 
to the Houses what was called an Act of Grace. 

The doctrine with respect to such an edict was, that Par¬ 
liament could not alter a single clause or expression which 
it contained, but on a single reading must accept or reject it. 
And the mode of action thus chosen succeeded ; those who 
had thrown difficulties in the way of the Act of Indemnity 
were so impressed with the King’s evident resolution to gain 


254 The English Revolution . 

his point, that they abandoned all thought of resistance to 
it, and the Act of Grace was accepted by both Houses with¬ 
out a single voice being raised in opposition to it. It was 
an act worthy of a King, only rendered more worthy by 
its contrast with, and opposition to, the long-remembering 
malignity of those who claimed to be most emphatically 
his supporters, and in whose despite it was done. A few 
persons were excepted from its benefits; those who had 
been the agents in the most lawless and tyrannical acts of 
the late King; and those who, having been prominent in 
the murder of Charles I., William’s grandfather, had at the 
Restoration fled to foreign lands, and of whom one or two 
were understood to be still alive. But with those excep¬ 
tions the Act of Grace wiped away the memory of every 
political offence committed by any member of any party, 
and with it the guilt and liability to punishment of every 
offender. 

As this great boon to a section of the people was delayed 
by the perverseness of the Parliament, so also was the pass¬ 
ing of the Bill of Rights impeded, though that concerned 
the liberties of the whole nation. It was framed in exact 
accordance with the Declaration which had been read to 
the Sovereigns when they accepted the Crown, with the 
addition of a provision that no one who was either a 
Roman Catholic, or who was married to a Roman Catholic, 
should be capable of succeeding to the throne. And it 
was indispensable to give validity to that Declaration, since 
it could not be said in strict law that their assent to it was 
of necessity implied in the mere fact of its having been re¬ 
cited in their presence. But, in the course of the progress 
of the Bill through the two Houses, William suggested the 
insertion of one additional clause. The settlement of the 


Question of the Succession. 


255 


Crown had not gone beyond the Princess Anne and her 
posterity, and any children whom William might have by a 
second wife. But it was obviously not improbable that 
neither William nor Anne might leave children, and, in 
that event, the next heir of the old line of Kings would be 
the Duchess of Savoy, daughter of the Duchess of Orleans, 
and, as such, granddaughter of Charles I.; and after her, the 
elder branches of the Palatine family, descended from the 
Queen of Bohemia, daughter of James I. But all these 
were Roman Catholics, and the only Protestant of the 
House of Stuart was Sophia, a younger daughter of the 
same Queen of Bohemia, and wife of the Duke of Bruns¬ 
wick and Elector of Hanover. 

William, therefore, in whose mind a desire to obtain the 
accession of Hanover to the league against France com¬ 
bined in this instance with his anxiety to secure the Pro- . 
testant succession in England, was anxious that, in failure 
of his own issue and that of the Princess Anne, the Crown 
should be settled on Sophia and her posterity. But he 
took a singular way to effect his object, since he did not 
trust the arrangement to any of his Ministers, but employed 
Burnet, whom he had recently made Bishop of Salisbury, 
to propose the addition of a clause to effect that object 
when the Bill came before the House of Lords. Such a 
provision was so manifestly desirable, that the Peers at once 
agreed to it; but the Commons, though the Jacobites were 
notoriously fewer in their House than in the other, rejected 
it. Their conduct was so strange, that Lord Macaulay 1 

1 Macaulay makes a strange mistake in condemning Burnet’s account of 
this vote of the House of Commons. He says (vol. III., p. 395 . note), 

“ Though Burnet took a prominent part in the discussion of this question, 

“ his account of what passed is grossly inaccurate. He says that the claus 


2 5 6 The English Revolution. 

can only account for it by a suggestion that the leaders of 
the Commons were glad of an opportunity to quarrel with 
the Upper House, because the Lords, sitting as a Court 
of Appeal on a Writ of Error, had refused to reverse a sen¬ 
tence which, in James’s reign, had been passed upon Titus 
Oates, though the judges, on being consulted, had unani¬ 
mously pronounced the sentence illegal. 

The Peers had been undoubtedly wrong; but, if the 
Commons were really led by motives of resentment at their 
error to reject a clause undeniably necessary for the peace 
of the kingdom, their conduct was still more unbecoming. 
They were probably influenced, in at least as great a degree, 
by the circumstance that, while the discussions between the 
two Houses were proceeding, a son was born to the 
Princess Anne, who received the name of William from 
the King, who was his godfather, and who at his christening 
was created Duke of Gloucester. Still it cannot be denied 
that during the first years of this reign the conduct of both 
Houses was at least as much distinguished by a spirit of 
faction as by a spirit of statesmanship, and that the aim 
of the leaders on both sides was too often to secure the 
triumph of their own party rather than the welfare of the 
State. Conferences now took place between the two 
Houses, but the Peers would not abandon the clause, nor 
would the Commons insert it; and for the moment the Bill 


“ was warmly debated in the Commons, and that Hampden spoke strongly 
“ for it. But we learn from the journals (June 19th, 1689) that it was rejected 
“ nemine contradicente." But there is no inconsistency in the two state¬ 
ments. The record in the Parliamentary journals only proves that no 
division was taken on the bill, which is often the case, even after the warm¬ 
est debates, when the minority see the weakness of their numbers. And 
Burnet’s account is fully confirmed by Dalrymple (vol. I., p. 365, 2nd 
edition, 1771). 


Death of the Duke of Gloucester. 257 

of Rights was sacrificed' to this unseemly squabble. But, 
whatever had been the motive of the Commons, the birth 
of the young Duke had such weight in the House of Lords 
and with the King, that, when, in the next session, the Bill 
was reintroduced, no one thought it worth while to mention 
the possibility of the succession of any other dynasty, and 
the Bill was passed unanimously. 

But before the end of the reign it became necessary 
once more to take the succession into consideration. The 
young Duke, the “ fond hope of many kingdoms,” who, in 
the judgment of his preceptor, Bishop Burnet, was giving 
promise of a good understanding and an excellent disposi¬ 
tion, died of scarlet fever in the last year of the century. 
Anne had no other living child, so that his death rendered 
it indispensable to make such provision as William had 
desired eleven years before. Indeed the choice of Parlia¬ 
ment was so limited by the necessity of the successor to be 
selected being a Protestant, that Sophia had no competitor, 
and in June, 1701, the Bill settling the crown on her and 
her posterity received the Royal Assent. 

This act may be regarded as the final legal completion 
of the Revolution, a character which is further stamped 
upon it by the circumstance that the opportunity was taken 
to incorporate in it several provisions which, though new, 
were of the greatest practical importance. 1 The Bill of 
Rights had only barred the throne against Roman Catholics, 
but the Act of Settlement of 1701 added the provision that 
the Sovereign should always be a member of the Church of 
England. It added a second to secure the independence 
of the judges, by making their continuance in office depend 

1 On all these additions, see Hallam’s “Constitutional History,” vol. 
III., p. 247, seq., the last pages of Chapter XV., 3rd edition, 8vo, 1832. 

S 


258 * The English Revolution. 

on their own good conduct, and not on the pleasure of the 
Crown; a third to prevent any prince who, being King of 
England, should likewise be possessed of foreign dominions, 
from involving this kingdom in war for their defence; a 
fourth, which was evidently suggested by occurrences of the 
present reign, prohibited any one who was not born of an 
English father from becoming a member of the Privy- 
Council, or of either House of Parliament, or from receiv¬ 
ing any office or place of trust: and a fifth, which had 
probably a secret reference to some of the circumstances 
connected with the Partition Treaty, enjoined that all 
matters relating to the government of the kingdom, the 
consideration of which belonged to the Privy Council, 
should be transacted at its meetings, and that all resolu¬ 
tions taken on such matters should be signed by those 
Councillors who had advised or consented to them. 

This last clause may be called a silent recognition of a 
most important though unmentioned change that, during 
the present reign, had gradually taken place'in the mode of 
carrying on the government. We now speak familiarly of 
the statesmen employed in the conduct of State affairs as 
the Ministry, or the Cabinet, terms by which we understand 
a small body of members of one House of Parliament or 
the other, among whom the management of the most im¬ 
portant departments of the State is divided; who are all 
mutually agreed in their views of general policy; and who 
are jointly responsible for every measure adopted. Such a 
body had been unknown in former times. The theory of 
our Government had indeed always been that the King 
carried it on after deliberation with, and therefore, generally 
at least, in accordance with the opinions of, his Privy 
Council. But arbitrary or indolent Sovereigns had often 


Arrangement of the Ministry. 259 

dispensed with such consultation ; it was also self-evident 
that so large a body could rarely be expected to be of 
one mind ; and still more plain that the minority could 
never be held responsible for the adoption of the views 
of the majority. Accordingly, in all former reigns this 
independence of each Privy Councillor had not been sup¬ 
posed to be affected by his acceptance of ministerial 
office. Former Kings, and even William himself, on his 
first accession, had selected the heads of the different 
Departments without considering for a moment whether 
their political opinions agreed or not with those of their 
colleagues, and it had been in consequence not uncommon 
for one Secretary of State to oppose in Parliament measures 
urged by another. 

But the greatly increased importance which the Parlia¬ 
ment had derived from the Revolution, and the manner in 
which that event had been brought about, had rendered 
the continuance of such a system, or want of system, im¬ 
practicable. It had made it impossible to carry on the 
business of any Department peaceably and successfully 
unless the Parliament approved of the manner in which 
it was conducted; consequently, the management of the 
different Departments came to be confined to Ministers 
whom the Parliament did approve, and consequently also 
to men of similar opinions. A Parliament in which the 
Whigs formed the majority would support none but Whig 
Ministers; a Tory Parliament would be equally decided in 
its preference for Tories. And, out of this harmony of 
opinion thus taken for granted, the idea of the mutual 
responsibility of all the Ministers naturally arose. The 
new practice was first exemplified about the middle of this 
reign; the Whigs, to whom William chiefly owed his posi- 

s 2 


260 The English Revolution. 

tion as King, sympathized with his views after he had 
become so; on the other hand, the Tories, of whom very 
few had acquiesced in his promotion without reluctance, 
showed frequent opposition to his views, and especially to 
his foreign policy. And, as even the occupation of some 
important offices by different Tory nobles and members of 
Parliament was found of no avail to soften the opposition 
of the party as a whole, it was not strange that William 
gradually began to perceive how greatly his comfort would 
be increased if his chosen councillors were all taken from 
the Whig party. 

The chief representatives of the Tories in the Govern¬ 
ment during the first years of the reign had been Lord 
Carmarthen, Lord Nottingham, and Lord Godolphin; in 
1693 Nottingham was allowed to resign because he, as War 
Minister, was unwilling to co-operate with Admiral Russell, 
whom the King had just placed at the head of the Admiralty. 
A year and a half later, Carmarthen, having been with some 
difficulty saved from impeachment on a charge of corrup¬ 
tion, was recommended by William to abstain from attend¬ 
ing the Council hereafter, though he would not proclaim 
his Minister’s disgrace by formally dismissing him. The 
next year Godolphin was induced to resign; and thus, in 
1696, the Ministry became purely Whig; Mr. Charles 
Montague, who had previously been Chancellor of the 
Exchequer, now uniting to that office the post of First Lord 
of the Treasury, and thus becoming the first Prime Minister 
of an united Cabinet. 

One clause in the Act of Settlement was of brief dura¬ 
tion. It prohibited the reigning Sovereign from ever quit¬ 
ting the three kingdoms without the consent of Parliament. 
It was manifestly a reflection on William himself, who, even 


26 r 


Provisions of the Act of Settlement. 

when not called to the Continent by the justifiable desire 
of conducting the operations of war, or of diplomacy, 
loved to spend large portions of his leisure in Holland, 
and had given great offence to his new subjects by his 
ostentatious preference of his native land. A year or two 
before, while his health was better, he would probably have 
refused to assent to such a clause. And it was not more 
palatable to the two first Georges, in whose affections 
Hanover occupied as large a place as he allowed to Holland. 
It was accordingly repealed in the reign of George I., who, 
with his son, made ample use of the liberty of movement 
which he thus recovered to the Crown; an use which 
their successors did not imitate; since of George III. 
and his two sons but one ever crossed the Channel, and 
George IV/s visit to the Continent was of the briefest 
duration; while, at the death of William IV., Hanover 
ceased to belong to the British Sovereign, and no future 
King, it may be hoped, will ever possess any continental 
dominion. 

Another clause has since been slightly modified. It was 
provided that no pensioner of the Crown, and no one who 
might be appointed to any office of profit under the Crown, 
should be capable of serving as a member of the House of 
Commons. This also had been suggested, in no slight degree, 
by the conduct of William himself; since his Ministers 
had availed themselves of the means at their disposal to 
corrupt members of Parliament, and had distributed secret 
bribes, and offices or pensions revocable at the pleasure 
of the Crown, as unblushingly as any of their predecessors 
in former reigns. But the clause was soon seen to have 
too wide an operation. As it was at first passed, it would 
have excluded even the Ministers from the House of Com- 


262 The English Revolution. 

mons, whose presence is more indispensable there than 
that of any other persons. And, as this was an objection 
which was felt almost instantly, in 1706 the clause was 
remodelled. To some offices the disqualification was still 
continued, from some it was removed altogether; while 
in the case of holders of the principal offices of state, and 
a few others, it was provided that, though their acceptance 
of such posts should still vacate their seats, they should be 
capable of re-election. 4 

Another law, though not passed till four years after the 
enactment of the Bill of Rights, and though subsequently 
altered, must also be recorded as a measure necessary to 
the completeness of the Revolution. No abuse . had 
caused more general indignation, or had been more pro¬ 
ductive of practical mischief, than the license which the 
Stuart kings had assumed of making the duration of Parlia¬ 
ments, and the frequency of their meetings, depend on 
nothing but their own arbitrary will. Even since the 
Restoration, Charles II. had protracted the existence of 
one Parliament for seventeen years; and both he and his 
brother had shown the same notion of their right, or at 
least of their power, to dispense with Parliaments altogether, 
as had been carried out by their unfortunate father. By the 
time that William had been three years on the throne, it 
began to be seen that he was as much attached to what 
he conceived to be the Royal prerogative as any of his pre¬ 
decessors. 2 The number of placemen in the House of 
Commons, who were of necessity greatly under the in- 

1 In reference to this clause see also Macaulay’s dissection of the 
Place Bill of 1692.—Vol. IV., c. 19, p. 339, Ed. 1863. 

2 " His spirit was quite as arbitrary and as impatient of control as that of 
any of his predecessors, Stuart, Tudor, or Plantagenet,” are the words of 
his warmest panegyrist.— Lord Macaulay, vol. V., p. 153. 


The Triennial Act . 


263 


fluence of the Crown, was so large, indeed, as to give rise 
to complaints that their votes overpowered those of the 
more genuine representatives of the people. And appre¬ 
hensions were felt that, the more this was the case the less 
would the King be inclined to dissolve the Parliament, and 
to give the people the opportunity of new elections. 

The discontent grew so loud, that, in the beginning of 
1693, Lord Shrewsbury, who had resigned his office of Sec¬ 
retary of State some time before, brought in a bill known as 
the Triennial Bill. It provided that the present Parliament 
should cease to exist on the first day of the following year, 
and that in future no Parliament should continue longer 
than three years; but it made no further provision for the 
issue of writs for a new Parliament after a dissolution than 
was contained in the re-enactment of a clause in the Act of 
Charles II. which forbade the intermission of Parliaments 
for more than three years. The framers of the new Bill 
evidently regarded the recent settlement of the revenue as 
a sufficient security for annual sessions. The Bill passed 
the House of Lords with very little opposition, and the 
House of Commons by a decisive majority. But William 
regarded it as an encroachment on his prerogative; bit¬ 
terly reproached some of those who voted for it; among 
whom was his President of the Council, Lord Carmarthen; 
and finally, against the advice of all his ablest councillors, 
refused to sanction it by the Royal Assent. 

Hallam has characterized his refusal as an exercise of 
prerogative which no ordinary circumstances can reconcile 
either with prudence or with a constitutional administration 
of Government. And it placed William himself in a false 
position. The next session the Bill was brought in again. 
Again the Lords passed it; but, in the Commons, Sir Edward 


264 The English Revolution. 

Seymour, who led the Tory opposition, by a skilful use of 
the argument that a Bill to limit the duration of the House 
of Commons ought not to have been first introduced in 
the House of Lords, procured its rejection by a small 
majority in a comparatively thin House. 1 However, the 
statesmen who supported it were resolved to attain their 
object. It was again brought forward in 1694. The jealousy 
between the Commons and Lords no longer prevailed. It 
was passed rapidly by both Houses, and William did not 
venture to repeat his disapproval. Rather more than twenty 
years afterwards, when from the continued intrigues of the 
Jacobites, an immediate appeal to the people seemed danger¬ 
ous to the stability of the Government, the period of three 
years was altered to seven. And such a duration of Parlia¬ 
ment has been found to work so well that no attempt 
to disturb the arrangement has ever succeeded, nor, it may 
be hoped, is any such attempt likely to succeed. 

The reign also witnessed other changes, which had perhaps 
as great an influence on the subsequent prosperity of the 
people, and on the steady progress of improvement, as the 
most warmly demanded legislative reforms. The coinage 
of the kingdom had long been in a very bad state, and by 
a gradual process of deterioration had latterly become worse 
than ever. The method of coining, which had scarcely been 
improved since the time of Edward I., secured uniformity 
neither of weight, nor of size, nor of shape. Clipping and 
paring the coins in circulation had consequently become 
one of the most ordinary methods of fraud, and, though 
such an act was a capital felony, and as such was punished 
when detected with unrelenting severity, the practice pre- 

' The numbers were 146 v. 136. In the previous session the Bill had 
been carried by 200 v. 161. 


State of the Coinage. 265 

vailed to the great injury of our trade and, what was even 
worse, to the great demoralization of the people. But in 
1:694, the ablest financier that at that time Europe had ever 
seen, Charles Montague, became Chancellor of the Exche¬ 
quer. And he at once applied himself to remedy the evil. 

Many different modes were proposed, for the notoriety of 
the evil had awakened discussion ; and, among others, the 
celebrated Locke had displayed all his powers of lucid 
reasoning on the subject. That the old money should be 
called in and good money substituted all were agreed. The 
practical question which called forth the subtlest powers 
of argument, and roused the angry passions of a vast mul¬ 
titude, was on whom the loss caused by the depreciation of 
the existing coinage was to fall. For, on an average of the 
whole kingdom, the coins in circulation were not worth half 
the sum that they represented. 1 And many pamphleteers, 
pronouncing that the national Treasury could not afford so 
vast a loss, recommended that it should be borne by each 
individual who was in possession of the clipped coins on the 
day on which they were called in. But Montague saw not 
only that it would be preposterously unfair to make indivi¬ 
duals suffer for evils for which not they, but the supineness 
of Ministers and Parliaments in times gone by was mainly 
accountable, but also that such a rule would utterly paralyze 
trade and commerce of all kinds till all the old money should 
be withdrawn from circulation; since no one would sell his 
goods for coins on every one of which he was to lose half 
its nominal value in a few months. And, though the loss to 
the Exchequer would be large (it was estimated that it could 
not amount to less than ^1,200,000), he resolved that the 
nation should bear it. 

> See Macaulay, vol. IV., pp. 626-7. 


266 


The English Revolution. 

The new Bank of England, which owed its origin to his 
financial sagacity, lent the Government the money required, 
on the security of a new tax which he invented for the pur¬ 
pose, and which, though the cause of much clamour, and 
undoubtedly open to some grave objections, subsisted to 
our own time. The hearth-tax was one of the oldest 
sources of the national revenue, but it was bitterly and 
universally hated, as one which pressed unduly on the 
poor, and which gave the collectors pretexts for domiciliary 
visits, which were almost always annoying, and not unfre- 
quently were made the means of unfair extortion. Mon¬ 
tague now proposed to abolish the hearth-tax, and to sub¬ 
stitute for it a window-tax, and the House of Commons 
unanimously approved of his design. In one point, his 
ingenuity, uprightness, and boldness was aided by fortune. 
Just at this time the office of Master of the Mint became 
vacant, and he conferred it on Isaac Newton, already 
known as the greatest mathematician that the world had 
seen, and who was now to prove that his practical skill 
equalled his mastery of abstract science. By his energy 
and ingenuity, mints were established in the chief pro¬ 
vincial towns, as well as in London. The old coinage was 
called in in May, 1696, and though, as the new coinage was 
a^ yet ready in only small quantities, the scarcity of money 
for a few months produced great embarrassment, and even 
some hardship and suffering, by August the supply had 
become nearly sufficient, and before the winter set in, 
every trace of the old grievance, and of the recent difficulty 
had passed away. 

The reform of the coinage was a great triumph of the 
administrative talents of the Government. Yet important as 
was its effect on the commercial prosperity of the country, its 


Enfranchisement of the Press. 267 

value as a cause and means of progress for the whole nation 
was equalled if not exceeded by a reform with which the 
Ministers themselves, and apparently the leaders of parties 
in the House of Commons, had little to do, but which 
seems rather to be ascribable to the general good sense of 
the House, and to what Hallam calls the “ influence of the 
popular principle in our Constitution.” 

In the middle of the reign of Charles I. a decree 
placing the Press under very severe restrictions had been 
issued by the Star Chamber; but it is not to be regarded as 
having been dictated so much by the despotic temper of 
the members of that deservedly odious tribunal, as by the 
spirit of the age ; since, six years later, the Long Parlia¬ 
ment, after it had declared war against the King, issued a 
similar order, 1 provoking Milton to remonstrate against 
their tyranny in his celebrated pamphlet, “ Areopagitica: 
An Address for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing.” It 
was equally in harmony with the notions of the Ministers 
of Charles II., for, as the order had expired with the Par¬ 
liament which promulgated it, one of their first acts was to 
revive it with greater authority, and they procured the 
enactment of a law framed with the same object, though so 
far less objectionable that it had a temporary character, 
being enacted only for a period of three years. It, how¬ 
ever, was renewed from time to time. When towards the 
end of the reign it had been suffered to expire, it was 
presently re-enacted; and it had been renewed once in 
William’s reign. In 1695 it was again about to expire, 
when a Committee of the House of Commons, whose 

1 The “Decree” and the “Order” are both given as a preface to the 
edition of Milton's “Areopagitica,” contained in the series of English 
reprints, edited by Mr. Arber. 


268 The English Revolution. 

recommendations had evidently the approval of the Minis¬ 
ters, reported that it was one of the statutes which ought to 
be maintained. It does not appear that any one spoke in 
opposition to the recommendation, but when the House 
was called upon for its vote on the subject, that clause of 
the report was rejected. The Ministers apparently did not 
think it worth while to make a struggle for its renewal, 
nor does it appear that any one at the time thought it a 
matter of any particular importance. The House of Lords 
did, indeed, when a Bill for the continuance of other tem¬ 
porary statutes was sent up to them, reinstate what was 
called the Licensing Act among those named, but after a 
conference with the Commons they readily gave up the 
point, and from that time English literature has been freed 
from all Ministerial control. Milton’s poetical anticipations 
have been realized, “ A noble and puissant nation roused 
herself like a strong man after sleep, and shook her invin¬ 
cible locks.” 

The emancipation of the Press did even more than the 
poet had foreshadowed. It did not so much awaken what 
had slumbered, as create what had had no previous exist¬ 
ence. Till this time no discussion of any political question 
could be addressed to the nation at large. The people 
could receive no light whatever on matters which might 
affect their dearest interests ; for, even in the brief period 
during which the Licensing Act did not exist, the judges 
laid it down that by the common law of the kingdom no man 
had any right to relate or discuss political events without 
the consent of the Crown. There were no newspapers. 
There had been one or two circulated among the opposite 
parties during the rebellion and in the time of the Com¬ 
monwealth, but they had all been suppressed at the Resto- 


First Appearance of Newspapers , 269 

ration, and for the last thirty years the only publication 
pretending to relate news was the “London Gazette/’ which 
was edited by a clerk in the office of the Secretary of 
State, and was not allowed to mention any incident un¬ 
favourable or unpleasing to the Government. 1 

There had been a few political pamphlets, or rather ad¬ 
dresses, for they were usually confined to a single sheet, but 
they were written and published stealthily and anony¬ 
mously, both author and publisher knowing that they were 
in danger of the pillory if discovered. 2 Now, however, all 
this was changed; not, indeed, that it was at all clear that 
the expiry of the Licensing Act affected the interpretation of 
the ordinary law on the subject as laid down by the judges 
of Charles II., but there seemed a general agreement to 
regard the removal of all restrictions upon pamphlets and 
treatises as the abolition also of the monopoly previously 
enjoyed by the “ Gazette.” And within a few weeks of the 
vote of the House of Commons a number of newspapers 
were set on foot, which, though meagre in size, poor in 
quality, and, in but few instances, appearing oftener than 
once a week, seemed of inestimable value to a generation 
which till then had known nothing more than its rulers had 
chosen to divulge, and which are scarcely of less impor¬ 
tance to the present generation, as the forerunners of the 
copious publications relating the most important occur¬ 
rences in every country in the world, pointing out their 
chief features, and examining them in all their bearings, 
which daily brighten our breakfast-tables. 

1 The “Gazette” of July, 1688, made no mention of the trial of the 
Bishops. 

2 The Act which was thus suffered to expire covered every kind of poli¬ 
tical writing. It was entitled “An Act of preventing abuses in printing 
seditious, treasonable, and ttnlicensed pamphlets,” &c., &c. 


2yo The English Revolution. 

One kind of information alone the newspapers did not 
venture to supply, the knowledge of how the members of 
the two Houses had spoken and voted in their places 
in Parliament. The old order, by which a century before 
the speakers had sought to protect themselves from the 
tyranny of Elizabeth, was still maintained in its original 
force, but not for its original reasons. Members who had 
taken bribes from Danby or from Barillon were as desirous 
to keep their baseness a secret from their constituents as 
the followers of Wentworth or of Hobby had been desirous 
to keep their fidelity to their duties a secret from the 
Queen. But gradually, though slowly, the spread of 
political knowledge, arising from the extension of the 
new system of intelligence, wrought the extinction of this 
order, of which, as being dictated by selfish timidity, its 
very proposers can hardly have failed to be ashamed, so 
that the present generation owes this knowledge also to 
the fortunate impatience of inquisitorial abuses, which, far 
more than the appreciation of any large principles of free¬ 
dom of speech or of thought, led William’s Parliament to 
emancipate the Press. 


» 


271 




CHAPTER XIII. 

Dangers of the Revolution from foreign wars—Success of the French in 
Piedmont and Spain—The War in Flanders—Walcourt and Fleurus 
—In 1691 William crosses over to take the command—Luxemburg 
takes Mons—In 1692 Luxemburg takes Namur—The battle of 
Steinkirk—Campaign of 1693 —Cowardice of Louis XIV. — The 
battle of Neerwinden—Subsequent campaigns—Recapture of Namur 
—The battle of La Hogue—Declaration issued by James. 


The different measures which have been enumerated in the 
last chapter may be regarded as the full establishment of 
the personal and intellectual freedom of every subject of the 
British Crown; and consequently as, in another sense, the 
completion of the Revolution, which had that freedom for 
its object. Yet it could not itself be said to be fully estab¬ 
lished so long as there was any danger of the new dynasty 
being overthrown either by open foreign war, or by secret 
domestic conspiracy. It was plunged into foreign war 
from its very birth. We have seen that in the very month 
in which William and Mary accepted the English Crown, 
Louis furnished James with military aid to recover his 
throne. And such an act was manifestly a declaration of 
war on his part, though more than two months elapsed 
before the English Parliament addressed William to make 
formal reply to it by an official proclamation. William had, 
however, from the first been making energetic preparations 
for war by forming a coalition of allies; and his diplomacy 


272 


The English Revolution. 

had been so successful, that a declaration of. war against 
France from the Empire, from Spain, from the States of 
Holland, and from the Elector of Brandenburg appeared 
even before his own. 

For six years hostilities were carried on with great vigour 
on both sides. And at first the genius of the great French 
War Minister Louvois, and of the marshals whom he placed 
at the head of the different armies, seemed likely to turn 
the scale in favour of France. Catinat in Piedmont and 
Savoy, and the Dukes of Noailles and Vendome in Spain, 
proved far superior in skill to their antagonists, though 
both, by the express orders of Louis himself, followed up 
their victories by the most inhuman cruelty towards the 
inhabitants of the districts in which they were carrying on 
their operations. 

But it was in Flanders that the principal efforts were 
made on both sides; and it was there alone that English 
soldiers were engaged, and that the events of the successive 
campaigns could be expected to influence the state of affairs 
in England; though even in that country, during the first 
two years of the war, we did not attempt to play more than 
a subordinate part. The civil war which, in 1689, raged in 
both Scotland and Ireland necessarily detained the greater 
part of our troops in those countries; and the only force 
which William could furnish for the support of his allies in 
the Netherlands was a brigade on which, as the regiments 
composing it had formed part of James’s army, he could 
not rely against their old master, and which he therefore 
sent, under the command of the Earl of Marlborough, to 
join the Dutch army under the Prince of Waldeck. 

During that year Marshal d’Humieres was the French 
Commander-in-Chief; and the scene of action was that 


Military Skill of Marlborough. 273 

narrow district on the western frontier of Flanders which 
lies between the Sambre and the Meuse, and which has 
witnessed more bloodshed than probably any similar space 
in the whole world. In one smart skirmish, which arose 
out of an attack made by the French on an outpost occupied 
by the English brigade at Walcourt, the English troops 
maintained their old superiority; and Marlborough, on this, 
the first occasion in which he was ever in command, showed 
a degree of skill far beyond that of the French officers, 
veterans though they were. When, the next year, Marl- 
borough had returned to England, Luxemburg, who had 
been sent from Paris to take the chief command, and who 
was probably the greatest commander, with the exception of 
Turenne, who up to that time had ever had the glory of 
France committed to his skill and valour, had no difficulty 
in giving the Prince de Waldeck a decisive defeat at 
Fleurus, on nearly the same ground which witnessed one 
of the earliest battles of the revolutionary war a century 
later. But in that battle the English brigade was but little 
concerned; and, by the confession of the French writers 
themselves, the victory was of very slight political impor¬ 
tance. 

It was not till the next year, 1691, that the war assumed 
a character which caused every event in it to be regarded 
with the deepest interest by both parties in England. A 
victory gained or a defeat sustained by our allies, in which 
our own troops had little share, was not calculated to have 
any effect on William’s reputation or position. But at the 
beginning of 1691 he conceived that he could safely leave 
the war in Ireland to be finished by his lieutenants, and 
that it was in Flanders, where Waldeck was manifestly un¬ 
equal to cope with the French marshals, that his presence 


274 


The English Revolution. 


was more required. Accordingly, in January he crossed 
over to the Hague with some fresh regiments, which raised 
the English contingent to 20,000 men, and, after holding 
some meetings of the representatives of the different 
members of the coalition, at the beginning of March he 
took the field in person. His first operations were un¬ 
successful. Brigades which are supplied by various nations 
can rarely be brought together with the same promptitude as 
an army belonging to a single prince, and, though the allies 
had agreed to provide for the coming campaign a vast host 
of 220,000 men, William could not at first muster above 
50,000, while by the middle of March Luxemburg had 
above 100,000 under his orders, and was able to reduce 
the important fortress of Mons before William’s face with¬ 
out the King of England being able to make a single effort 
to save it. 

Yet, if fairly estimated, the campaign, viewed as a whole, 
was highly creditable to William’s skill. His policy was 
evidently to avoid q battle. Such an army as his, com¬ 
posed of Germans from many different States, of Dutch, 
Flemish, and British regiments, required time to learn 
to co-operate without jealousy, and to feel confidence in 
himself, before they could be expected to encounter with 
success a French army composed wholly of soldiers of one 
nation, and led by a chief known to them all in thirty 
campaigns, and by all admired and trusted as invincible. 
For these same reasons Luxemburg was eager to force the 
King to a battle. But so wary and skilful was William’s 
strategy throughout the whole summer, that, with all his 
genius, the Frenchman could find no opportunity of attack¬ 
ing him with advantage; and after a bloodless campaign 
both armies retired into winter quarters. 


Luxemburg takes Namur. 


275 


Yet, though it had certainly been honourable to William 
in one point of view, it was nearly proving disastrous in 
another. His allies were less patient than himself. They 
were, or fancied themselves, less interested in curbing the 
pride and power of the French monarch. They were 
irresolute, fickle, and above all covetous and divided by 
mutual jealousies. A less indomitable spirit than that of 
William would have abandoned the coalition in despair, as 
he was more than once tempted to do; and a less able 
diplomatist would have failed to keep it united. By un¬ 
wearied exertions, and great concessions, he did succeed in 
maintaining it, and even in strengthening it by conciliating 
Sweden and Denmark, whose attitude had previously been 
far from friendly. 

But when all political difficulties had been overcome, he 
found it, in 1692, as impossible as he had found it in 1691, to 
take the field with full effect as early as Louis. And Luxem¬ 
burg with 120,000 men had laid siege to Namur before 
William suspected his design, much more before he was in 
any condition to succour it. Namur fell on the 1st of July. 
William, though he had lost no honour by its fall, watched 
vigilantly for some opportunity of retrieving the disaster, and 
a month later flattered himself that he had found one. The 
Elector of Bavaria commanded one division of the allied 
army, and Luxemburg had succeeded in bribing his private 
secretary, a musical professor appropriately named Millevoix, 
to supply him with information of the movements and de¬ 
signs of his enemies. The secretary’s treachery was dis¬ 
covered, and he was compelled by threats of instant death 
to send the Marshal Duke such false intelligence as might 
lull him into security, and enable William to make an attack 
upon his camp, in front of the little village of Steinkirk, 


t 2 


276 


The English Revolution. 


which, as being unsuspected, he reasonably hoped could 
hardly fail to be successful. 

William’s design was skilfully laid. He did succeed 
in taking his adversary by surprise so completely that he 
utterly routed the brigade which had the outposts of the 
camp committed to its care; and took all its guns. But 
he was unable to pursue his advantage with the rapidity 
on which he had reckoned. The ground which lay be¬ 
tween the outpost and the main body of the French 
army was broken, intersected with rough fences and deep 
wide ditches. His meditated onset was unavoidably im¬ 
peded ; and to Luxemburg, who never under any diffi¬ 
culties or dangers lost his presence of mind, a very brief 
respite was sufficient. Though he had placed such confi¬ 
dence in the strength of his lines, and in his superiority of 
numbers, that he had expected nothing less than an attack 
from an enemy whom he had not yet learned to appreciate, 
a very short time sufficed him to collect his whole army in 
array to receive it; and, when at last William forced his 
way to his front, he found himself disappointed of all the 
advantages which he had hoped to gain from the surprise 
of his enemy, and reduced to fight a pitched battle on equal 
terms. 

No such armies had ever met in a modern field. Each 
numbered near 100,000 men; and the stubbornness of the 
conflict corresponded to their strength. In the French line 
stood a force which had but lately joined it, the Irish brigade 
which Sarsfield had brought over from Limerick. They 
were animated by a threefold motive to exert themselves, 
by the desire to make a worthy return for Louis’s protection 
and liberality; to win for themselves, at the sword’s point, 
an honourable return to their native land; and to secure the 


The Battle of Steinkirk. 277 

restoration of their exiled King to his throne. They fought 
as gallant men under such incentives were sure to fight. But 
the English were as fiery as they, and still more steady; and 
on this day earned the character, which they have never since 
lost, of being the best infantry in Europe. So indomitable 
did their valour seem, that Luxemburg was forced to bring 
into action the celebrated household brigade, “the gilded 
troop,” 1 as the Duke of Berwick calls them, composed 
wholly of gentlemen, and led by princes of the blood, by 
the Duke of Orleans, the Duke of Bourbon, the Prince of 
Conti, and the Duke of Vendome. And even then the 
English might have held their ground had not William's 
unworthy favourite, Solmes, basely betrayed them. He 
commanded the division which, from its position, could 
have given them the most effective support, and that 
support he refused to give. “He wished,” he said, with 
malignant jealousy, “ to see what sport the English bull¬ 
dogs could make.” Unsupported, they could but perish 
where they stood. Mackay of Killiecrankie fell gallantly 
fighting at the head of his regiment, and with him many 
other officers who had recently, in the war in their own 
country, given promise of future eminence. After a struggle 
unequalled in its stubbornness, if the scantiness of their 
numbers and the overpowering strength of their assailants 
be considered, the remnant of the English division was 
beaten back; and when they were beaten none of their 
foreign allies made any stand. 2 But Luxemburg's victory, 
if, indeed, Steinkirk may not rather be called a drawn battle, 


1 La troupe doree ; la maison du roi.—“ Memoires du Due de Berwick,” 
vol. I., p. 115. 

2 Et quand les Anglais furent vaincus il fallut que le reste cedat. 
—Voltaire, " Si&cle de Louis XIV.” c. 16. 


278 The English Revolution . 

had been so dearly won that he was unable to derive any 
further advantage from it; and, though it was boasted of at 
court as a brilliant achievement, it in no degree reconciled 
the French people to the continuance of the war, which 
was beginning to cause great distress throughout the whole 
of the kingdom. 

But, if the French had had no real ground for exultation 
in the war in 1692, in 1693 they had reason for deep 
shame, though at no period were William and the Crown 
which he had won, and the cause of European freedom for 
which he so manfully struggled, in greater danger. In the 
preceding year the baseness of Solmes had perhaps deprived 
him of a triumph; in this year he was, in his own opinion, 
as also in that of every Frenchman capable of forming a 
judgment, saved from utter ruin by the disgraceful conduct 
of another person, and that person was Louis himself. Louis 
liked the parade of war ; he liked to come with all the pomp 
of a gorgeous and voluptuous court to the head-quarters 
of an army while it was .besieging a town, and, in tents 
glittering with silk and gold, to feast at a safe distance from 
the trenches while his generals and engineers were battering- 
breaches in the walls; to receive the keys of the con¬ 
quered fortress as spoils won by his own valour; and 
then to return to Versailles to listen to fresh flatteries 
from poets and preachers, who vied with one another 
in their fulsome adulation. But he never trusted himself 
with his armies when a battle was at hand in which some 
dashing attack or chance bullet might expose his Royal 
person to danger. 

At the beginning of May he had come to Luxemburg’s 
camp, expecting that the great Duke would enable him to 
add the keys of Brussels or Liege to his trophies. But 


Cowardice of Louis XIV. 


2/9 


Luxemburg, who had 120,000 men, hoped rather, by 
making demonstrations against those great cities, to draw 
William, who was sure to make every possible effort to pro¬ 
tect them, into a situation where he could force him to a 
battle, which, as the allied army did not exceed 70,000, 
could scarcely have any result but its entire destruction. 
To his dismay and shame, he found that Louis, the 
moment that he learnt that a fight in the open field was 
contemplated, determined to return to Paris ; seeking to 
disguise his cowardice by pretending a change in the plan 
of the campaign, and by detaching the Dauphin, with 
Marshal Boufflers and 40,000 men, to the Rhine. In vain 
Luxemburg threw himself on his knees 1 before his Sove¬ 
reign to entreat him to abandon so dishonourable a purpose. 
Louis was sufficiently alarmed to be resolute; and the 
Duke was left with an army thus reduced to little more than 
an equality with his adversary, to endeavour to throw a veil 
over his master's dishonour by his own glory. He could 
not screen it from those concerned. William himself, who 
was too magnanimous to dissemble his errors, confessed that 
he had brought himself into a situation in which nothing 
but a miracle could have saved him from ruin. The French 
soldiers, equally clear-sighted, and feeling that their King’s 
flight had disgraced the whole nation, gave free license to 
their tongues, and even the courtiers and fine ladies who 
had accompanied the court to Flanders and back to 
Versailles, in spite of the pleasure with which they returned 
to the luxuries of the palace, spoke with unaccustomed 
plainness of the cause of their return; and in the graphic 

1 Luxemburg, au desespoir de se voir echapper une si glorieuse et si 
facile campagne, se met a deux genoux devant le roi, et ne peut rien obtenir. 
—St. Simon, vol. I., p. 96- 


280 The English Revolution. 

language of St. Simon, made it a point of honour to be 
ashamed of it. 1 

Still, so far as the disgrace could be washed out by subse¬ 
quent success, the national honour could be entrusted more 
safely to no one than to Luxemburg. Even after Boufflers 
had left him, he was stronger than William by 20,000 men. 
But he was not satisfied with that superiority; he aspired to 
finish the war at a single blow; and, to render the victory 
which he promised himself absolutely decisive, he made 
such a demonstration of a design to attack Liege as induced 
William to detach 20,000 men to protect that important city. 
Then, when the allied army was reduced to 50,000 men, he 
collected his whole force and marched against the King 
with 80,000. 2 It was late in the evening of the 18th of July 
when William, who fancied him still bent on the reduction 
of Liege, learnt that he was close at hand, and would 
certainly fall upon him at daybreak with a force more than 
half as strong again as his own. 

He saw at once that he had been out-generalled. He 
might still have retreated with safety; for a little beyond 
his right was the Lesser Gheet, :i a stream which, though 

1 II faisaient honneur d’en etre honteux.— St. Simon, vol. I., p. 99. 

2 In the battles of this age it is generally difficult to make out the pre¬ 
cise numbers engaged, because the reports do not describe the armies by the 
number of the men, but by the number of battalions (of infantry) and 
squadrons (of cavalry). For instance in this battle (which the French call 
Neerwinden, and English historians in general Landen) Berwick says they 
had 96 battalions, and 210 squadrons, and that the Prince of Orange had 
“only 65 battalions, and 150 squadrons.” A battalion may perhaps be 
taken generally as consisting of about 500 men, a squadron of about 200. 
This calculation would, according to Berwick's account, make the French 
army 90,000, and the allies 62,500, which is certainly a number greater than 
the truth in both cases. 

3 There is some obscurity in the accounts of this battle, for Berwick 
says William’s camp was between the two Gheets (the Greater and Lesser 


The Battle of Neerwinden. 


281 


of no great width, was deep, with high steep banks, and 
with several bridges, all of which were in his possession; and 
the Elector of Bavaria, with most of his generals, earnestly 
counselled such a step. But he probably looked at his posi¬ 
tion as much with the eye of a statesman as with that of a 
general; and feared the moral effect on both his troops and 
his allies of a movement which must seem a confession of 
inferiority, as well as the possibility that a retreat might lead 
to the loss of either Brussels or Liege. Confiding, there¬ 
fore, in his own indomitable courage, he resolved to hold 
his ground; and at once applied himself so to strengthen 
his position, as in some degree to make up for his in¬ 
feriority of numbers. His troops were as energetic as him¬ 
self. When day broke and Luxemburg rode to the front of 
his army to give the signal for battle, he was astonished to 
find that in a single night wide trenches four feet deep had 
been cut, and palisades erected along the whole of the 
allied line; that redoubts, half-moons, and other defences 
in use with the engineers of that day, had been constructed, 
and bristled with nearly 100 guns; in short, that he had to 
attack a well-garrisoned fortification, instead of what he had 
expected to find, an unprotected and helpless mass of 
troops. 

But he did not on that account hesitate a moment; but 
at once poured his columns on the allied position both in 


Gheet, as they are called in our maps), but afterwards he says William’s 
left rested on a stream (deep enough to form a defence, he calls it un bon 
ruisseau ), and his right on the village of Neerwinden. But Neerwinden 
is not between the two Gheets, but to the south of the Lesser Gheet. There 
is a small stream, the Landen, to the south of Neerwinden, which Berwick 
probably mistakes for one of the Gheets. 1 call the battle that of Neer¬ 
winden, because the conquerors have always a right to give the name to 
their victories. 


282 The English Revolution. 

front and flank; supporting them, till they closed with their 
foes, with a heavy fire of artillery. William’s left rested on 
a little stream called the Landen, his right on the village of 
Neerwinden, which was the key of his position; and, as 
both armies saw its importance, the struggle which both 
made for its possession was one of extreme stubbornness. 
Twice it was taken and retaken. In one conflict the Duke 
of Berwick, who commanded the attacking division, was 
taken prisoner; many other officers of high rank were 
killed. At last Luxemburg, as at Steinkirk, was forced to 
bring up the Household Brigade ; and they, gallantly led by 
the Duke of Bourbon, and the Duke of Chartres (afterwards 
the Regent d’Orleans), who, though but a boy, showed on 
this day the valour of a veteran soldier, came on with the 
brilliant impetuosity habitual to them, which now for the 
first time was found not to be irresistible. For a moment, 
indeed, they made themselves masters of the disputed 
village; but William put himself at the head of some English 
regiments, and other picked troops, and drove them out 
again with prodigious slaughter. All that the most heroic 
courage could do, William, by the confession even of his 
admiring enemies, did; but in the end Luxemburg’s numbers 
and skill prevailed. The allied ranks, greatly inferior in 
number from the very beginning, had been terribly thinned ; 
and at last, after eight hours of hard fighting, those who re¬ 
mained were beaten back at all points. Then as the French 
pressed on with triumphant cheers, the disorder became 
terrible. Whole regiments of the allies threw away their 
arms and colours, and pressed in undisciplined flight towards 
the bridges over the Gheet. The King himself and Gene¬ 
ral Talmash, at the head of the British division, still fought 
desperately to cover the retreat; till they, and especially the 


Death of Sarsfield. 


283 


King, were more than once nearly taken prisoners. William 
was almost the last to cross the river; and with his retire¬ 
ment from the field the battle ended. 

The French had full right to boast, as they did boast, of 
a complete victory. 1 But they were in no condition to 
improve it. If on the side of the allies 12,000 or 14,000 
men had fallen, Luxemburg's loss had not been greatly less. 2 
Many of his noblest and bravest officers lay dead on the 
field; among them the gallant Sarsfield. And Luxemburg 
himself, aged and infirm, had no longer the energy necessary 
to cope in a protracted series of operations with so unwearied 
and indomitable an antagonist as William, who never showed 
greater vigour or greater military capacity than in the exer¬ 
tions which he made to reorganize his army after so terrible 
a defeat. 

It had, indeed, been a critical day, not only for him but 
for England. Had he been slain (and his physical weak¬ 
ness had prevented him from wearing the cuirass which was 
still the usual protection of officers of rank), or had he been 
taken prisoner, all that had been done with such labour and 
such judgment in the last five years would have been in 
no small danger of being undone. The coalition against 
France must have been dissolved at once. Louis would 
have been at liberty to employ his whole strength for the 
restoration of James; while the English people, however 
disposed to rally round Mary’s throne, would, at first at all 
events, have had no trustworthy leader to guide their 
efforts. It is hardly conceivable that they could have 

1 “ La victoire se peut dire complete.”— St. Simon, vol. I., p. hi. 

1 Berwick says 8,ooo ; St. Simon not much under 10,000; and the 
French had already learnt to disguise their own losses, and to exaggerate 
those of their enemies. 


284 


The English Revolution. 


averted the re-establishment of James except at the cost of 
another civil war, during which the deaths of Mary and of 
the young Duke of Gloucester would have been further 
discouragements to those who were still standing forward in 
defence of the principles of the Revolution such as they 
could hardly have surmounted. Surely, without superstition 
it may be said that Providence, which throughout this ter¬ 
rible day watched over William’s safety, was at the same 
time watching over England, that one model and bulwark of 
civil and religious liberty might be preserved in the world. 

It was, however, the last danger of the kind to which 
William was exposed. The year 1694 passed by without 
any warlike incident of importance to either army. And 
the death of Luxemburg, which happened in the first week 
of 1695, deprived the enemy of the only soldier to whom 
William was decidedly unequal. Villeroy, the Marshal 
whom Louis now matched against him, was more inferior to 
him than he had been to Luxemburg. Though his force 
was, as usual, superior to that of the allies, William 
out-manoeuvred him ; re-took Namur in spite of him, though 
it was defended by a resolute and skilful governor, Marshal 
Boufflers; and the result of the whole campaign was to 
establish at last a decided superiority of the allies to the 
Lrench armies in that quarter. It was plain to the most 
sanguine of the Lrench councillors that the only prospect 
of overthrowing William’s throne was by assassination. 
And to that accordingly they applied themselves. 

Lor, though at first the operations of the fleets had also 
been in some degree advantageous to the Lrench, their 
moment of success was as brief as the success itself had 
been trivial. In the spring of 1689 Admiral Herbert, though 
furnished with a fine fleet for the express purpose of 


Naval Battles. 


285 


intercepting the communications between France and 
Ireland, had limited his exertions to an action in Bantry 
Bay, which was wholly indecisive, and which he made no 
effort to renew. And in the summer of 1690, having been 
created Lord Torrington in the interval, he conducted his 
operations with such irresolution and unskilfulness that he 
was defeated off Beachy Head, though the loss had fallen 
chiefly on the Dutch squadron, who engaged with great 
gallantry in the conflict from which, so far as he could, he 
kept the bulk of the English ships aloof. Of the English 
squadron only one ship was captured, so that though dis¬ 
graced it was but little weakened; and the recollection of 
this discomfiture was soon effaced by British triumphs, 
which, if the preponderance of force on our side forbids us 
to describe as glorious, were at all events unusually deci¬ 
sive, and, in their bearing on the subsequent operations and 
plans of the enemy, all-important. 

In 1692, Count Tourville, the Admiral who had com¬ 
manded at Beachy Head, was again sent with forty-five 
sail of the line into the Channel, with orders to take 
under his command another fleet of equal strength which 
was to come round from Toulon, and to attack the 
English Admiral wherever he might find him. Foul winds, 
however, kept the Toulon fleet in the Mediterranean, 
and Tourville had still only his own division with him 
when, on the 19th of May, he fell in with Admiral Russell, 
who had superseded Lord Torrington in the command of 
the English fleet, and who was now at the head of a com¬ 
bined force of English and Dutch ships which amounted to 
more than double the Frenchman’s numbers. The moment 
the two fleets came in sight of each other, Russell made 
the signal for action \ and Tourville, though completely 


286 


The English Revolution. 

surprised by his overpowering numbers, conceived that his 
orders left him no discretion, but bound him to fight under 
any circumstance. He fought with great gallantry and 
great skill, but to a battle engaged in against such odds 
there could be but one end. Many of his ships w T ere taken 
or destroyed ; and those which escaped to their own har¬ 
bours found those harbours no protection. 

Under Russell’s orders were Sir Ralph Delaval and Sir 
George Rooke, two officers of the highest reputation in the 
service. He at once sent Delaval to attack the ships that 
had reached Cherbourg, and Rooke against a large divi¬ 
sion which had got into the Bay of La Hogue. Delaval 
destroyed those at Cherbourg, while Rooke forced his way 
into the Bay of La Hogue. The contest there was one of 
unusual interest, for it took place under the eyes of King 
James himself. It had not been merely for the sake of gain¬ 
ing a naval victory over an equal force, however glorious that 
would have been, that the Toulon fleet had been ordered 
to leave the Mediterranean undefended and to unite with 
Tourville in the British Channel. The object aimed at had 
been far larger : the same to which, above a hundred years 
afterwards, Napoleon also looked as the means of humbling 
England. The fleets when united were to cover the passage 
of an invading army to our shores. All the Irish regiments 
which Sarsfield had brought over, and 10,000 French 
soldiers under Marshal Bellefonds, were encamped at La 
Hogue ready to embark in their transports the moment 
that the English fleet had been beaten back to its harbours. 
And James himself was among them, impatiently waiting 
for the moment when he might set sail to recover his old 
kingdom. 

The scattered ships which sought refuge in La Hogue 


Sir George Rooke at La Hogue. 287 

Bay, had brought him the first intelligence of the downfall 
of his hopes. But they had scarcely reached it when the 
English ships were also seen crowding all sail after them. 
It seemed an unequal contest, for the French vessels ran 
on shore when ours could not approach them without the 
certainty of also grounding, and where they were protected 
by the guns of the different forts and of several batteries 
which Bellefonds rapidly constructed at the very water’s 
edge. But English sailors had long learnt to despise all 
such obstacles. Finding that his ships could not get within 
shot, Rooke sent in his boats. The very audacity of the 
attack struck a panic into the French sailors. As the 
English came on, many of the French deserted their ships, 
escaping to the shore before their assailants could grapple 
with them. Even some regiments which Bellefonds had 
brought down to harass the boats with musketry, fell 
back after firing a few volleys. In a very short time the 
English sailors had mastered and set fire to the whole 
French squadron, as well as to the transports and 
storeships which had been collected for the use of the 
army. Yet, bitter as must have been the feelings of James, 
they were overpowered for a moment by the recollection 
of former days, when he, too, had led a British fleet to 
victory. And, as he saw Rooke’s sailors springing from 
their boats up the lofty sides of the French three-deckers, 
James exclaimed that “ None but his brave Englishmen 
could have performed so brave an action.” 

The news of the victory was received in England with 
unbounded exultation, which was not confined to the Whigs. 
Patriots in general rejoiced that the stigma thrown on the 
English navy by the pusillanimity of Torrington, in the 
previous year, was so splendidly effaced. Many even of 


288 


The English Revolution. 


the Tory party who had hitherto been inclined to favour 
James’s restoration, acknowledged that it was well for the 
country that the well-laid scheme of invasion had been thus 
defeated. And this change of feeling arose from no fickle¬ 
ness on their part, but from the fierce obstinacy and per¬ 
verseness of James himself. In full confidence of the success 
of the intended invasion, he had announced his approaching 
return, in a printed declaration, in which he began by 
exhorting the English people in general to join his standard; 
but immediately proceeded to render obedience to his 
exhortation hopeless. He gave, indeed, fair promises of 
his maintenance of the old Constitution in future ; but he 
neutralized them by denying that he had ever violated it. 
And, after denunciations of the wickedness of those who 
had calumniated him, and the weakness of those who had 
believed their calumnies, and assurances of forgiveness to 
the bulk of those who had deserted him, or had obeyed the 
usurping Prince of Orange, he excepted from such forgive¬ 
ness, as traitors to be consigned to instant execution, a 
number of the most eminent and powerful men in the 
kingdom; and a still greater number of persons of no 
importance at all. 

Thirteen lay Peers, including those of such influence as 
Danby, Nottingham, Sunderland, Marlborough, and his first 
wife’s nephew, Lord Cornbury; four prelates, including 
Tillotson, whose sole offence was having accepted the Pri¬ 
macy, with many members of the House of Commons, 
headed the list, which was completed by a vast number of 
persons of less note : The fisherman who in perfect 
ignorance had stopped and insulted him at Feversham ; the 
magistrates who had committed for trial a man named Cross 
for holding treasonable communications with Tourville before 


James s Declaration . 289 

Beachy Head, with the Crown lawyers who had prosecuted 
him, the jury which had convicted him, the judge who had 
sentenced him, the gaolers and turnkeys who had been 
concerned in keeping him in prison till his execution ; and, 
above all, the executioner. Many others were inserted 
in the black catalogue of those for whom there was no 
mercy, though they were protected by an express statute; 
for the only offence charged against them was that in 
various official capacities they had obeyed the orders of 
the existing Government; and a law as old as the time 
of Henry VII. declared such obedience to a de facto 
King innocent. 

So malignant and revengeful was the spirit which the 
Declaration displayed, that the Ministers, who, during 
William’s absence in Flanders, acted as Mary’s Council for 
the government of the kingdom, reprinted it and circulated 
it over the kingdom; judging that nothing could more 
strengthen the loyalty of the nation in general to their new 
rulers than the proof of what was to be expected if the 
old ruler should be restored. And they judged correctly. 
James’s display of unrelenting vindictiveness not only con¬ 
firmed the loyal, but offended the wavering. It alienated 
Russell himself, who had previously been discontented with 
the new Government, and had even held out hopes to 
James’s agents of future co-operation with them; but who 
had made the publication of an universal amnesty an in¬ 
dispensable condition of his assistance. He now renounced 
all connection with the Jacobite party. His fidelity to the 
new dynasty was cemented by a letter which, at this junc¬ 
ture, Nottingham, as Secretary of State, addressed to liim 
as Commander-in-Chief, purporting to be written by the 
Queen’s express command, to declare the implicit confi- 


290 


The English Revolution. 


dence which she herself and the King felt in the constant 
loyalty of the fleet. He, and the whole fleet under his 
command, were deeply flattered by so judicious and 
noble an appeal to their good faith. They answered by a 
loyal address, in which they pledged themselves to uphold 
the Crown and the Protestant religion at the hazard of 
their lives; and their behaviour in the Channel and in 
the Bay of La Hogue was the faithful redemption of their 
pledge. 

Nor was La Hogue the only place on the French coast 
that suffered from the enterprise of our sailors. Admiral 
Benbow, with one squadron, destroyed the forts at St. 
Malo; Lord Berkeley burnt Dieppe and the greater part of 
Havre; Sir Cloudesley Shovel destroyed the fortifications 
of Calais. The only place where we failed on the northern 
coast was Brest, where a combined attack made by a naval 
and land force under Lord Berkeley and General Talmash 
was repulsed with heavy loss, the brave Talmash himself 
being among the slain; 1 while our triumphant fleets pene- 

1 This was the expedition, the failure of which Lord Macaulay imputes 
wholly to the treachery of Marlborough in sending intelligence of the 
proposed expedition to James at St. Germains. No excuse can be made 
for Marlborough's baseness without dishonouring him who would plead 
for it. But there seems but little doubt that the French had received 
ample information of the object of the expedition before Marlborough’s 
letter was written. Indeed, it seems almost certain that the letter was 
designedly kept back by the writer till it was too late to be of use. The 
very words of the letter are “Russell sails to-morrow.” Marlborough’s 
object apparently being, not to defeat the expedition, but to take credit 
with James for having tried to defeat it, in the event of his recovering his 
throne, which, however improbable, he could not but look upon as impos¬ 
sible. In fact, William’s own announcement of an intention to attempt 
a descent on the French coast, which he made to his Parliament in No¬ 
vember, 1692, was quite enough to put Louis on his guard, and Vauban 
had been sent down to put the defences of Brest in order some months 
before the expedition sailed. 


Russeil in the Mediterranean. 291 

trated the Mediterranean also, Russell pursuing Tourville 
into Toulon, blockading him there, and greatly lowering the 
reputation of the French, and exalting our own among all 
the nations, Christian or barbarian, which dwelt upon the 
shores of the Mediterranean. 


u 2 


292 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Intrigues and plots against William—Hopes of James and his courtiers— 
Doubtful fidelity of the English nobles—Personal unpopularity of 
William—State of the Highlands—The Massacre of Glencoe—Lord 
Preston’s conspiracy—Treachery of Fuller and Crone—Plot of the 
Earl of Marlborough—Grandval’s conspiracy—Death of Queen Mary 
1 —Compounders and Non-compounders—Lord Middleton is invited to 

St. Germains—James publishes a New Declaration—Charnock's con¬ 
spiracy—Detection of the plot—A Bond of Association is signed— 
Recent alterations in the law of trials for High Treason—Case of Sir 
John Fenwick—His Execution by Act of Attainder—Objections to 
which Acts of Attainder are liable. 

The events which have been mentioned in the last chapter 
were the last incidents in the war, which was nominally 
protracted for two years longer, but which was marked by 
no exploit of the slightest importance on either side after 
the recapture of Namur. But the hopes of Louis and 
James, as has been already said, were not confined to 
honourable warfare. From the day on which James fled 
back from the Boyne to St. Germains, his Court was the 
scene of constant intrigues with the English Jacobites, and 
with all others whom it seemed possible to allure to join 
that party, and of conspiracies for the restoration of James, 
some of which avowedly included the assassination of 
William, and ail of which assuredly contemplated it, since 
it was not easy to conceive how the one object could be 
attained without the accomplishment of the other. 


Intrigues of the English Nobles . 293 

It was not strange that James should at first be easily 
led to believe that the intrigues which those around him 
were unweariedly carrying on in England would be success¬ 
ful ; for, even among the highest in hereditary rank or official 
dignity, there were very few who refused to listen to the 
seductions of his agents. Marlborough, the greatest soldier 
of the army, and one who, by his unrivalled persuasiveness 
and address, had vast influence over people of all classes 
and ranks, and especially over the Princess Anne, was in 
frequent communication with them, though his views were 
probably directed rather to secure pardon and favour in the 
case of a new restoration, than to contribute to such an 
event. Russell, the first officer in the navy, though the 
near kinsman of the Lord Russell who had perished on the 
scaffold in the reign of James’s brother, for some time 
showed almost equal signs of discontent at the results of 
the Revolution. It was still more encouraging that the 
Earl of Shrewsbury, though Secretary of State, displayed 
the same disposition, though his conduct seems to have 
proceeded rather from constitutional irresolution than from 
deliberate treachery; and that the Earl of Clarendon, 
though Mary’s uncle, had refused the oath of allegiance, 
and hardly concealed his unwillingness to aid in any plot 
which might bring about a counter-revolution. 

And the belief entertained not only by the Councillors of 
J ames, but by the far abler Ministers of Louis, was, that 
the frequent absences of William from London, while he 
was conducting the war in Ireland, and afterwards in 
Flanders, afforded especial facilities for the accomplishment 
of the plotters’ designs. They were probably mistaken. 
Whenever William quitted the kingdom, Mary took charge 
of the Government, with the aid of a Privy Council selected 


2 9 4 


The English Revolution . 


with great care ; and, as she was far more popular than her 
husband, while her advisers of the Council were infinitely 
better acquainted with the inclinations and temper of the 
people than he, it may well be questioned whether he would 
have been as successful in keeping waverers faithful, and in 
kindling a more zealous enthusiasm in the loyal and stead¬ 
fast, as she proved on one memorable occasion. 

It may, indeed, be even said that he himself encouraged 
the formation of plots against his Government by many 
parts of his own conduct. In spite of his many great 
talents and virtues, in some points he contrasted unfavour¬ 
ably with his predecessors, with Charles II. and even with 
James II., while the qualities in which he was most de¬ 
ficient were precisely those which make the greatest impres¬ 
sion on the multitude, whose observation, from the 
scantiness of opportunity, must necessarily be superficial. 
Charles had been eminently courteous and affable; and 
James, though without any tincture of his brother’s good¬ 
nature, yet in his intercourse with those about him dis¬ 
played much of that dignified courtliness which had been 
so marked a characteristic of his father’s demeanour. But 
William had not inherited with the Stuart blood any por¬ 
tion of the Stuart graces. His disposition and manners 
were, no doubt, affected in some degree by his bad health, for 
he was an almost constant sufferer from that most distressing 
of all complaints, asthma. But he was by nature reserved 
and unsociable, if not morose, and rude and coarse in his 
demeanour not only to men but to ladies, even to his own 
wife and her sister, to whom he more than once behaved 
with a boorishness which provoked the contemptuous or 
unfriendly comments of those who witnessed it. It was 
even more offensive that, when he did relax his habitual 


William's Favour to the Dutch. 


295 


coldness and asperity, it was in favour not of the English 
nobles and statesmen and soldiers who had invited him to 
the country, and had placed him on the throne, but of a 
small set of foreigners whom he had brought over with 
him. He not only suffered a few Dutch favourites to 
monopolize his civility and friendship, but he lavished 
on them titles, lucrative offices, and grants of such 
enormous value that Parliament more than once inter¬ 
fered and compelled him to recall them, and, in the Act 
of Settlement, guarded against a similar bestowal of im¬ 
portant posts on foreigners in future, by a provision that 
no alien, even though he might have been naturalized, 
should be admissible to the Privy Council nor to Parlia¬ 
ment, or should be capable of being appointed to any 
place of trust. It must be added that the English nobles, 
who saw these men thus preferred before them, could not 
fail to perceive at the same time that they were in no way 
distinguished by any remarkable ability; in fact, that they 
had no recommendation whatever but their foreign blood, 
which might rather be considered a disqualification for 
posts in an English court. 

Equally conspicuous was the King’s preference for Hol¬ 
land as a residence. It was to no purpose that the 
English climate and the English scenery was far superior to 
the misty atmosphere and low unvaried plains which Dutch 
industry has, indeed, converted from barren, pestilential 
swamps into fertile pastures, but which no ingenuity can 
render attractive to the eye. William took no pains to 
dissemble his preference for his native land. England he 
regarded as a place of exile, Holland as his home, and this 
preference, however intelligible and in some degree excus¬ 
able, if the influence on the mind of early associations be 


296 


The English Revolution. 


remembered, was regarded with discontent, if not with in¬ 
dignation, by his English subjects. They considered that 
they had raised him from the rank of a petty prince to that 
of a great king, and that such a service deserved a return 
of gratitude and affection, which he was so far from show¬ 
ing, that it rather seemed as if he desired to mark to all the 
world, and especially to them, that, though King of Eng¬ 
land, he had no portion of English manners, English tastes, 
or English feelings. 

Nor were the causes of complaint confined to such 
matters as these; on more than one occasion he showed 
that his disposition was quite as arbitrary and impatient 
of control as that of the King whom he had displaced. 
He reproved the Houses of Parliament in a tone as lordly 
as Charles I. He repeatedly withheld the Royal assent 
from measures which they had passed by large majorities ; 
towards the end of his reign he nearly quarrelled with them 
on a subject akin to that which had been one of their most 
serious grounds of complaint against James. James, in 
spite of the vote of Parliament, had persisted as long as he 
could in keeping up an army on a footing which the sup¬ 
pression of Monmouth’s rebellion had rendered unneces¬ 
sary. And in like manner William, after the peace of 
Ryswick, showed himself so obstinately resolved on retain¬ 
ing a force which the Houses regarded as needless, and 
on making a part of it consist of foreign regiments, that 
he even threatened to abdicate the Government rather 
than abandon his intention, and could with difficulty be 
persuaded to renounce an idea so ruinous to his reputation. 

One portion of his new kingdoms had a still deeper 
ground of dissatisfaction. Though Scotland was as yet so 
little considered that Scotch disquietudes and grievances had 


State of the Highlands. 297 

no weight in influencing the calculations of James’s English 
advisers or of his French allies, Scotland had given no trouble 
to the new Government since Killiecrankie. Several, indeed, 
of the Highland chieftains had abstained from taking the 
oaths of allegiance; but, though their power over their 
clansmen was absolute, they had made no further active 
resistance. Some of them had carried on a kind of civil 
war with their neighbours; but such disturbances had been 
at all times common in the Highlands, and had no con¬ 
nection with politics, nor with the interests of the rival 
dynasties. But out of this normal state of affairs was con¬ 
cocted by one of William’s Scotch councillors a pretext for 
a deed of singular atrocity. The restless spirit of the 
chieftains was in a great degree kept alive by their poverty; 
they were not only destitute of money, but they were in 
many instances encumbered by debt. One not unimportant 
means of livelihood to the smaller chieftains was the pillage 
of their richer neighbours, whose cattle they carried off* 
in periodical creaghs or forays; and those who were 
plundered were frequent and urgent in their demands of 
payment in compensation. Men subject to such claims 
had naturally ears open to the seductions of St. Germains ; 
and when the Government, desirous to terminate such a 
state of affairs, offered pardon to every one who, before the 
last day of 1691, should make his submission, and take the 
oath of allegiance, it also resolved to distribute among the 
disaffected chiefs a sum of money, which, though amount¬ 
ing to no more than a few thousand pounds, would be 
sufficient to relieve them from those pecuniary embarrass¬ 
ments which were one principal cause of their disaffection. 

The plan was wise, but it was marred by a blunder in 
the execution. The distribution of the money was entrusted 


298 The English Revolution. 

\ 

to the Eajl of Breadalbane, a man who combined the vilest 
political profligacy with the most sordid covetousness ; who 
in turn had taken the oaths both to James and to William; 
who in turn had been equally false to both; and who was, 
moreover, the chief of one of the branches of the great 
family of the Campbells, while none of the great lords had 
wider claims for compensation, and were in consequence 
more dreaded by the lesser chieftains, than the great head 
of the whole family of Campbell, the Marquis of Argyll, and 
Lord Breadalbane himself. Among those pre-eminently 
obnoxious to the Campbells, were the different branches 
of the Macdonalds, and among the Macdonalds none were 
so hated by them as the least numerous and least powerful 
tribe of all, the Macdonalds of Glencoe, a valley on the 
borders of Argyllshire. The entire clan, including women 
and children, did not amount to 200 souls, a matter of 
moment where the wealth and importance of the chief 
depended on the number of his followers; and the chiefs 
poverty, in a country where the plunder of flocks and herds 
was recognized as a legitimate mode of subsistence, was of 
itself enough to make him a dangerous and therefore a 
hated neighbour. As the Campbells were Whigs, the Mac¬ 
donalds, as a natural consequence, were Jacobites; but they 
gradually became alarmed at the growing power of the 
new Government, and learnt to suspect that James was but 
little able, or perhaps but little disposed, to assist them. 

In the course, therefore, of the last month of the year, 
the greater part of the chiefs who had hitherto stood aloof 
made their submission and took the oaths required of them ; 
and finally, on the 31st of December, the very last day on 
which, according to the proclamation, submission could be 
made or accepted, Macdonald of Glencoe himself repaired 


Case of Macdonald of Glencoe. 299 

to Fort William, the proper place for those in that district 
to appear at, and applied to have the oaths administered 
to him. By some extraordinary mismanagement of the 
Government, there was no one at the Fort qualified to 
administer them • the governor, a military officer, was not in 
the commission of the peace, and there was no magistrate 
within many miles. What the governor could do he did. He 
gave the chief a letter to the sheriff of Argyllshire stating 
what had occurred, and explaining that Macdonald had 
offered to take the oaths within the prescribed time, and had 
only been prevented from completing his submission with all 
the legal formalities requisite by the absence of any magis¬ 
trate empowered to receive it. And the sheriff, though Mac¬ 
donald could not of course reach him till the new year had 
begun, under the circumstances consented to administer 
the oaths, and reported to the council at Edinburgh that 
he had done so. Macdonald returned home exulting in 
the confidence that, at whatever sacrifice of his political 
principles, or of, what was dearer to him, his hereditary 
enmity to the Campbells, he had secured the favour and 
protection of the Government for his clan. With all his 
experience, he failed to estimate the vindictiveness and 
treachery of those who at that moment ruled the Campbell 
tribes, and theAinscrupulousness of the statesmen who had 
the chief authority at Edinburgh. 

Of Breadalbane mention has already been made, and the 
Earl of Argyll was a man of similar disposition; while Sir 
John Dalrymple, more commonly known as the Master of 
Stair, who had recently become the Prime Minister in Scot¬ 
land, regarded the whole body of Highlanders, and v the 
Macdonalds especially, with deadly hatred. Not that they 
had ever injured him personally: his father's property lay 


300 


The English Revolution. 


in the southern counties, far out of the reach of their widest 
raids. But, having far larger views of statesmanship than 
any of his contemporary countrymen, he desired to establish 
the supremacy of legal authority, and to promote peaceful 
industry throughout the whole country; and he looked on 
the whole Highland people as one vast band of incorrigible 
robbers, whose very existence was an obstacle to the im¬ 
provements which he desired to see effected, and who 
could only be tamed into order by some terrible example. 
With these views, he had reckoned with exultation on the 
prolonged contumacy of one or two clans, as what should 
give him a pretext for dealing them a blow which might 
strike terror into the rest; and, in anticipation of it he had 
issued the most ruthless orders to the Commander of the 
Forces in Scotland, enjoining him, if the opportunity should 
be afforded him, to lay waste the huge tracts of land 
belonging to the Camerons, the Macleans, the Macdonalds, 
and others, closing his letter with an injunction of atrocious 
significance, that the Government was not to be troubled 
with prisoners. 

A Royal Commission, appointed some years afterwards 
to investigate the transaction, reported thatMie Master had 
designed a massacre of full 6,000 persons. Of this whole¬ 
sale slaughter he was baulked by the timely submission of 
all the clans except Glencoe; and to every candid magistrate 
it was obvious that Glencoe’s adhesion had also been given 
in in time. It was not the fault of the old chieftain that,- 
when he offered to take the required oath, no one at the 
proper place was authorized to receive it. If, according to 
the letter of the proclamation, he was too late, according to 
its spirit he was as undoubtedly in time. But the Master of 
Stair cared little for the spirit when the letter of the law 


The Massacre of Glencoe . 301 

was sufficient for his bloodthirsty purpose. He even, on 
some plea of irregularity, suppressed and cancelled the 
certificate in which the sheriff of Argyllshire reported that 
Glencoe had submitted, and then procured from William 
an order for the extirpation of the whole tribe. The- order 
was signed and countersigned by the King's own hand in 
a manner only used when the promptest obedience was 
required; but it is probable that William, who was never 
bloodthirsty, had no very precise idea of what was in¬ 
tended. 1 His advisers, however, knew only too well, and 
had already prepared the means for carrying out the injunc¬ 
tions contained in the warrant with such cruel perfidy, that 
it may be questioned whether the whole history of crime 
has preserved a single instance of an assassination so 
treacherous and base. 

The contrivers of the bloody deed lost no time. It had 
been the 6th of January when Macdonald obtained from 
the sheriff the certificate which both that magistrate and he 
himself considered as a sufficient safeguard. By the 1st of 
February the certificate had been discussed and suppressed, 
the fatal warrant had been transmitted to London, signed, 
and returned to Edinburgh, and the minister of blood had 
arrived in Glencoe. As if to increase the infamy of the 
transaction, the first steps to be taken in the execution of 
the warrant were entrusted to a connection of the principal 
victim. The animosities which separated clan from clan in 
the case of individuals had occasionally been overborne by 

1 Burnet, who, in spite of the report of the Commission in 1695, lays the 
blame more on Breadalbane than on the Master of Stair, affirms that 
Breadalbane (who, in the Bishop’s view, must therefore still have befen a 
Jacobite secretly) persuaded William to consent to the massacre, “ that he 
might both gratify his own revenge, and render the King odious to all the 
Highlanders.”—Vol. II., p. 89. 


302 


The English Revolution. 

softer feelings, and a Captain Campbell of Glenlyon had 
married a niece of Glencoe. 1 Those who had planned the 
massacre which ensued had seen in this very tie a facility 
for blinding their victims. 

On the ist of February Glenlyon, with 120 soldiers, 
marched into the valley, and solicited the chieftain’s 
hospitality for himself and his men. He and his band 
were distributed among the clansmen, and for twelve 
days they abode in the glen on terms of apparent 
friendship with their unsuspecting hosts, while they were 
secretly making themselves acquainted with all the passes 
through the mountains which might afford opportunities for 
escape. By the 13th it had been calculated that the passes 
might all be known and guarded; and on that day it had 
been arranged that Glenlyon’s superior officer, Colonel 
Hamilton, should bring 400 soldiers more to make the 
work sure. The night, however, proved stormy ; the roads 
were blocked up with snow, delaying Hamilton’s march. 
But Glenlyon would not wait for him, as if eager to 
monopolize the favour which he expected the deed would 
secure him in the eyes of the Government. He himself 
had been lodged in the house of one of the chief clans¬ 
men, named Inverrigen ; he began the slaughter by murder¬ 
ing his host, with his whole family, even to the young 
children who clung to their murderer’s knees, and begged 
in vain for mercy. His lieutenant knocked at the door of 
the chieftain himself, who was shot down while bringing 
refreshments to his supposed friendly visitors ; the assas¬ 
sins even proceeding to strip his wife, and to tear the rings 
from her dying fingers with their teeth. Almost every 

1 Another account says that his niece was married to Glencoe’s second 
son. At all events there was a close connection of some kind. 


Report of the Commission. 


303 


dwelling in the entire glen presented a similar scene. A 
few, indeed, and among them a son of Glencoe himself, 
succeeded in escaping. But when, about mid-day, the 
colonel at last arrived, there was but one person left alive in 
the whole glen. 1 He was an aged man, more than seventy 
years old, and even the order for the destruction of the 
rest had exempted any person who might have arrived at 
that age. But, as if he were disappointed at having missed 
his share in the carnage, Hamilton murdered him too, and 
then vented his rage in burning the houses and carrying off 
the cattle as trophies of his triumph. 

News travelled slowly in those days, and, as a general 
rule, Scotch affairs attracted but little attention in London. 
Even when, after the lapse of more than a year, the enormity 
of the crime began to force itself upon the attention of 
those in authority, and came to the ears of Mary herself, 
she could not at first induce William to pay much attention 
to it. Nor was it till the beginning of 1695 that he 
appointed a Royal Commission to examine into the 
character and details of the transaction; and even the 
conduct of the Commissioners, though their report was fair 
and honest, gave grounds for a suspicion that the Govern¬ 
ment would have concealed the whole truth, and would 
have screened the guilty had it been possible. 

The report was reluctantly produced and laid before the 
Scotch Estates. And the behaviour of the Estates them¬ 
selves was not such as gave a high idea of their indepen- 

1 Lord Macaulay seems to intimate that a large proportion of the 
destined victims escaped, and speaks of “about thirty corpses,” as if they 
were all who perished. But even by his own account there must have been 
many more. For he expressly mentions Inverrigen and nine of his family; 
Auchintriater, with seven more of his family; Glencoe, his wife and two 
servants. These alone make twenty-two. 


304 


The English Revolution. 


dence, or as befitted a body bound to be the guardians and 
protectors of those whom they represented. The report 
affirmed that a barbarous massacre had been perpetrated, 
but exonerated Argyll and Breadalbane from the guilt, 
which they charged wholly on the Master of Stair. The 
Estates, where the Master was justly respected as one of 
their ablest statesmen and most eloquent orators, feared to 
proceed against him, and contented themselves with passing 
a series of resolutions which, while it censured him, left it 
to the King’s wisdom to deal with him in such a manner as 
might sufficiently vindicate the honour of his Government. 
And William did worst of all. One of the resolutions of 
the Estates had affirmed that, though William had signed 
the warrant under which the massacre had been committed, 
he had not intended that it should be executed as it had 
been. His conduct almost seemed as if he designed to 
prove that he had so intended it. He did indeed dismiss 
the Master from his office, but he took many occasions to 
show that he had in no degree lost his confidence, and he 
thus gave the Jacobites but too plausible grounds for con¬ 
tending that he had fully consented to the bloody deed 
before, and that he did not in his heart condemn it after its 
execution. 

In whatever degree these errors of the King tended to 
encourage the hopes and projects of his enemies, from 
the very moment that he and Mary accepted the Crown 
plots were continually set on foot to deprive them of it, 
and, though it cannot be said that any one of them was ever 
near succeeding, they derived additional importance from 
the part taken by James himself, who so degraded his royal 
blood as to countenance the worst of them in all its worst 
details; and they were evidently so many dangers to the 


305 


Lord Preston's Conspiracy. 

Revolution. Nor can it be regarded as having been rendered 
throughly secure till the last treason was laid bare to the 
world, and till the last traitor had expiated his guilt upon 
the scaffold. 

The first conspiracy was formed, and in part detected, 
even before William sailed for Ireland to open the campaign 
of the Boyne. The conspirators were a miscellaneous 
band, the chiefs of which were Lord Preston, Bishop 
Turner, Lord Dartmouth, and Lord Clarendon. Lord 
Preston was a Scotch peer, who had been Secretary of 
State during the last months of James’s reign, and was 
still considered by the Jacobites as possessed of that official 
authority; Bishop Turner had been one of the seven 
bishops prosecuted by James, but had been too scrupulous 
to take the oath of allegiance to William, and had conse¬ 
quently, as a nonjuror, been deprived of the Bishopric of 
Ely; Lord Clarendon, after many waverings and shiftings 
(in the course of which he had bewailed his son’s desertion 
of James, then had himself joined William, and before the 
end of the same year had tried to induce the Princess 
Anne to set up her claims and those of her children in 
opposition to him), had also at last refused the oath of 
allegiance, and had kept up a correspondence with James; 
and Lord Dartmouth, as if he had repented his refusal 
to convey the young Prince of Wales to France, had 
pursued the same line of conduct. 

All these men had been in constant communication with 
the exiled family from the very beginning of 1689 ; and in 
the spring of 1690, while James was still in Ireland, it 
became known to the Government that some messengers 
from Mary would shortly bring important despatches to 
some of the chief Jacobites in England. If the Jacobites 


x 


306 The English Revolution. 

had been capable of taking warning, or of learning common 
prudence, the history of this conspiracy might have deterred 
them from engaging in any other. Two messengers were 
employed, and one betrayed the other; when that other had 
been convicted and sentenced to death, he saved his life 
by revealing as much of the plots and of the plotters as 
he knew ; and, finally, when the chief conspirator himself 
had been convicted, he, too, followed the example of the 
lesser traitors, and earned a pardon by a full revelation, in 
which he apparently did not limit his denunciations to 
those who were really guilty. 

The messengers, two men named Fuller and Crone, before 
they quitted France for England, received their instructions 
and despatches from Mary of Modena herself. Fuller, who 
had pretended to embark in the conspiracy merely to betray 
it, delivered to William the letters addressed to the conspi¬ 
rators, and gave information which led to the discovery and 
arrest of Crone. Before he could be brought to trial, Wil¬ 
liam himself was compelled to cross over to Ireland. But the 
Queen, with the aid of the Council whom he had appointed 
to assist her, was equal to the crisis. Crone, when convicted, 
implored an interview with the Secretary of State, and Lord 
Nottingham’s unyielding firmness convinced him that his 
only hope of safety lay in making a full confession. It 
proved of great importance; for, all through the month in 
which William sailed, the gallant French Admiral, the Count 
Tourville, was cruising up and down the Channel. On the 
last day of the month, as has been already mentioned, he 
drove Torrington before him, and all along the southern 
coast he found agents prepared to supply him with informa¬ 
tion. One of them, however, a Sussex innkeeper named 
Cross, was detected and hanged, and his fate made his 


Tourville lands in Devonshire. 


307 


accomplices cautious; while a day or two afterwards a still 
greater dismay was spread among the whole Jacobite party 
by the intelligence of the defeat of the Boyne and James’s 
ignominious flight. And, in the end, Tourville returned to 
his own harbours, having achieved nothing more than a 
descent on the Devonshire coast, in which he had burnt 
Teignmouth, and committed such outrages and cruelties as 
aroused the whole population against the detachment of 
troops which had landed, and which had great difficulty in 
regaining the ships. 

But in spite of this failure the plans which had been 
formed seemed too promising to be readily given up. The 
testimony of Fuller and Crone had not appeared to the 
Council sufficient to warrant the arrest of the principal con¬ 
spirators who were still at large. And before the end of 
the year his adherents were more diligent than ever in their 
invitations to James to invade the kingdom with the aid of a 
French army in the ensuing spring. It is remarkable that 
their zeal in the cause had not blinded them to the difficulties 
of the undertaking ; neither to those which would proceed 
from the national spirit which was sure to be roused by the 
mere sight of foreign uniforms, nor to those which might be 
expected to arise from the disposition and conduct of James 
himself. And they did not shrink from giving him good 
advice, however unpalatable it might prove. They told him 
plainly that it would be indispensable for him to give the 
English people sufficient assurance of his resolution to pro¬ 
tect the Established Church, to govern in all points with 
strict adherence to the established laws, and to guide him¬ 
self in all matters by the counsels of his Parliament. And 
they even urged him to induce his ally, Louis, to relax the 
rigour of his edicts against Protestantism. For, so unyield- 

x 2 


308 


The English Revolution. 


ing was Louis’s bigotry, that even the Protestant adherents 
of James who had followed him into exile were prohibited 
from practising the rites of their religion in their new country. 
And this intelligence had produced, even among some of 
the Jacobites themselves, an impression which it was most 
desirable to remove. 

A memorial embodying these suggestions was carefully 
drawn; and, with numerous letters from Clarendon, Bishop 
Turner, and others; and with other documents giving 
minute information as to the state of the fleet, of the 
harbours, and the strength of the different garrisons, 
was confided to Lord Preston, who with a Mr. Ashton, 
who had been clerk of the closet to Mary of Modena, 
and a young man named Elliot, undertook to convey 
them to St. Germains. Under the pretence of smug¬ 
gling, a vocation long popular on every part of the coast, 
they hired a vessel in which they proposed to cross from 
London to Calais. But the captain divined the character of 
his employers; and in the belief that to betray them would 
be more profitable than to serve them, sent information of 
the engagement into which he had entered to the President 
of the Council. The ship was allowed to sail, but, when it 
was near the mouth of the Thames, was overtaken and 
boarded by Government officers. Preston, Ashton, and Elliot 
were all seized, with the papers entrusted to their care; and 
before the end of January (they had been seized on the last 
day of December, 1690), Preston and Ashton were brought 
to trial. Elliot was released with a contemptuous mercy, 
which, however praiseworthy, would certainly not have been 
shown in the last reign. There was no difficulty in estab¬ 
lishing the guilt of the prisoners. Both were convicted, and 
Ashton was immediately executed; but Lord Preston was 


Merciful Spirit of the Government. 309 

allowed to save his life by revealing all the ramifications of 
the conspiracy. William himself was never bloodthirsty. 
And among his chief advisers and supporters many had 
family connections with some of the Jacobite party, and sym¬ 
pathy with their persons, if not with their designs. It was 
therefore not unnaturally desired by all rather to prevent 
future plots than to punish past conspiracies with more 
severity than was actually indispensable. Even Lord 
Clarendon and Lord Dartmouth, who were more deeply 
implicated by Preston’s revelations than any other nobles, 
received no further punishment that that of a short imprison¬ 
ment, and the escape of Bishop Turner to France was pro¬ 
bably connived at. 

The Bishop’s treason, however, had an unfavourable 
influence on the fortunes of some who had had no con¬ 
nection with it. The other nonjuring Bishops, though 
deprived of their sees, had hitherto been allowed to retain 
their palaces and revenues. No successors had been 
appointed; and, by the order of Mary herself, while William 
was absent from England, proposals had been made to 
them that the Government would be willing to procure the 
passing of an Act of Parliament to excuse them from 
taking the oaths, if they on their parts would resume their 
functions, and take their proper share in the conduct of 
public worship. Apparently from an unwillingness to pray 
for the King and Queen, they refused to give a satisfactory 
answer. But still the Government, with rare forbearance, 
had abstained from ejecting them from their palaces, till 
the discovery that one of the number had profited by the 
indulgence thus shown to him to plot against those who 
had been thus merciful, created doubts whether a continuance 
of that forbearance could be justified. Their places were at 


3i° 


The English Revolution. 


last filled up, and they were now compelled to cede their 
dwellings and estates to successors, who, with equal learning 
and piety, had no scruples as to the duty of conforming to 
the existing Government 

Yet, in spite of the irresistible indications of the general 
feeling of the English nation which had been supplied by 
the fate of this conspiracy, the year did not pass away with¬ 
out another plot being formed to overthrow the new 
Government: a plot which was far more formidable than 
the last, since it was devised by a man of rare and almost 
universal ability in public affairs, who had actually been one 
of the Queen's Council during William’s absence in Ireland, 
and who had suggested and executed some of the opera¬ 
tions which had contributed to the downfall of James’s 
fortunes in that country. 

The Earl of Marlborough had no reason to complain 
that his talents oi; his services were not appreciated by his 
"new master; but he was discontented, it may be believed, at 
seeing that others of far inferior talents stood yet higher in 
William’s favour solely because they were Dutchmen. His 
great capacity had in it the alloy of one meanness which 
is rarely found in combination with such bravery and saga¬ 
city. He was insatiably covetous, and with even more 
indignation than he saw military command bestowed on the 
unworthy Solmes, did he behold lucrative offices and vast 
estates lavished on Bentinck, and Auverquerque, and Gin- 
kell. A jealousy of the Dutch was a feeling in which he 
was sure of the sympathy of the great majority of the peo¬ 
ple ; and he began to desire a Sovereign who, if devoid 
of William’s courage and wisdom, should by those very 
deficiencies be the more compelled to rely on and to 
reward his own talents and exertions. With these views 


Plot of Marlborough. 311 

he iormed a plan of rare subtlety. He was far too shrewd 
to believe that he should have a better chance of engross¬ 
ing the favour of James than he had of becoming the 
chief object of William’s confidence and liberality. But 
his Countess had already established a paramount influence 
over the Princess Anne. His scheme, therefore, was to use 
the aid of those who desired the restoration of James, to 
overthrow the Government of William, and then to avail 
himself of the Protestant feeling of the whole kingdom to 
replace him not by James but by Anne . 1 

It is difficult to say how far a fresh revolution of this 
character would have affected the maintenance of the prin¬ 
ciples on which the late Revolution had been founded. It 
would certainly have greatly changed the course of affairs 
both here and on the Continent during the next few years. 
And it might very possibly have led to a different arrange¬ 
ment of the succession to the Crown. Marlborough was too 
sagacious to embark in ordinary treasons, the execution of 
which required the concurrence of accomplices who might 
betray him. He would put himself in no man’s power. 
But he thought to effect his object by means which should 
be strictly within the law : by the agency of the Parliament, 
and by the prejudices and irritation of William himself. 
The King’s undisguised and exclusive preference for his 
Dutch followers had already excited such general dissatis¬ 
faction, that the Earl foresaw that it would be easy to carry 

1 I have adopted Lord Macaulay's view of Marlborough’s real object in 
the communications which he now opened with St. Germains, because it 
is inconceivable that the Jacobites could have had any other reason for 
betraying him to William; because it is also supported by the manner in 
which Anne herself was treated; and because it is strongly confirmed even 
by that passage in James's autobiographical memoirs in which he condemns 
those who betrayed the Earl to Bentinck for their indiscretion. 


312 


The English Revolution. 


through both Houses of Parliament addresses requesting 
the dismissal of all foreigners from the service of the State. 
That William would refuse to comply with such a request 
he had no doubt, and as little that his refusal would cost 
him his throne. He thought it not impossible that he 
would at once abdicate the sovereignty; and in that case 
he expected that Mary would refuse to separate her fortunes 
from his and to remain in England as Queen, and that thus 
the throne would again become vacant. He thought it 
equally likely that William might reject the petition with 
disdain, and defy the Houses. But he felt confident that 
such a course in such a cause would irritate the whole 
nation, and he reckoned that he himself should then have 
a plausible ground for openly declaring his opposition to 
the King’s policy, and for calling on the army to rally 
round him in defence of the Parliament. If the regiments 
in England answered his call, of which he had no doubt, 
their union with the Houses would make William’s continu¬ 
ance on the throne impossible. So that, whichever alterna¬ 
tive William might. adopt, the carrying of the proposed 
addresses must lead to a fresh revolution; while that the 
Houses would prefer Anne to James as William’s successor 
was, in Marlborough’s opinion, even more certain. 

The scheme was craftily laid, but it was nipped in the 
bud. The Jacobites were naturally indisposed to place any 
great confidence in the Earl, and some of the most wary 
of the party made such a discovery, or conceived such 
suspicions of his real design, that they revealed it to Lord 
Portland. William was alarmed and incensed. He had 
no means of punishing his enemy, since his machinations 
were to be carried out by the constitutional agency of a 
Parliamentary vote; nor, had they come under any legal 


Dismissal of Marlborough. 313 

definition of treason, would it have been easy to obtain 
legal evidence of their nature. But he at once dismissed 
the Earl from all his commands and offices, and after a 
short time Lady Marlborough, who held the chief post in 
the establishment of the Princess Anne, was commanded 
also to leave the Palace. It is a striking proof of the 
absolute sway that she had already established over the mind 
of the Princess, that though Mary detailed to her sister the 
just reasons which she and the King had for being offended 
with Marlborough, reasons in which it was the Princess’s 
duty to sympathize, Anne still refused to part with the 
Countess, and preferred giving up her own residence at 
Whitehall, and living in hired or borrowed houses to 
separating herself for a single day from her imperious 
favourite. 

James disapproved the act of his adherents in disclosing 
Marlborough’s intrigues to William, as one of impolitic 
indiscretion . 1 He would probably have hoped to be 
able to turn Marlborough’s acts against himself, and after 
William had been got rid of, would have relied on Anne’s 
affection or weakness for his own restoration. But the 
deed was past remedy. He now could only trust to 
the success of Louis’s army in Flanders ; and, when it was 
found that none of the French triumphs were followed by 
any political results, but that William after, and in spite of, 
his disasters was as strong as ever both in the field and in 
the affections of the great majority of the English nation, 
he had once more recourse to conspiracies, and, becoming 

1 “ Quelques fideles sujets indiscrets, croyant meservir, et s’imaginant que 
ce que Milord Churchill faisait n’^tait pas pour moi mais pour la Princesse 
de Danemarck, eurent l’imprudence de decouvrir le tout a Bentinck, et 
detournerent ainsi le coup.”—James’s own statement, quoted by Macau¬ 
lay (vol. II., p. 166). 


314 The English Revolution. 

more desperate, he now openly countenanced projects of 
assassination. 

Louvois, the great War Minister of Louis, a man as hard¬ 
hearted and unscrupulous as he was able, had died in the 
spring of 1692 ; but, shortly before his death, he had con¬ 
trived a plot for the assassination of the King, who at the 
French Court was still described only as the Prince of Orange. 
And his son, the Marquis of Barbesieux, who succeeded him 
in his office, inherited and adopted also his enmity to England 
and to William. An officer named Grandval, of previously 
fair character, but so blinded by bigotry that he thought any 
crime excusable which might serve the interests of Popery, 
undertook the deed with the aid of two accomplices whom 
he believed that he could trust. But he himself was too 
imprudent and talkative for a conspirator, and both his 
accomplices betrayed him. He hoped to find an oppor¬ 
tunity of striking the contemplated blow while William was 
engaged in the attempt to relieve Namur; and he did 
not want encouragement from people even higher in rank 
than Barbesieux. Before he quitted Paris for the Nether¬ 
lands he was presented to James himself and to his Queen ; 
and James assured him of abundant recompense if he 
succeeded in his enterprise. But before he reached the 
frontier, full and precise information of his appearance and 
design had been conveyed to William, and, as soon as Grandval 
entered the Netherlands, he was arrested. He was brought 
to trial before a court-martial; but there was no need of a 
protracted inquiry, for he confessed the whole charge. He 
was executed with all the horrible additions to death which 
the cruel ingenuity of former ages had devised for traitors; 
and his confession was translated into several languages and 
circulated over the whole Continent. No attempt was made 


Death of the Queen . 


315 


even by the French Ministers to deny the statements which 
it contained; and Louis even seemed to identify himself with 
the crime that had been intended, since he in no respect 
withdrew his favour from Barbesieux, whom Grandval had 
declared to have been his tempter. 

Yet his terrible fate did not deter others following in 
his steps, though, as a single assassin had failed, the next 
time that an assassination plot was set on foot, it was 
thought Safer to employ a band strong enough to execute 
their purpose by main force if a secret attack should 
prove impracticable. But no fresh plot of the kind was 
formed immediately. The Jacobites had begun to doubt 
whether the removal of William by himself would serve 
their purpose. It was even highly probable, as Mary was 
far more popular than he, that it might strengthen her hold 
on the affections of the people; and that afterwards to 
overthrow the new throne when she was its sole occupant, 
might prove a harder task than while she shared it with 
him. 

* 

But in the winter of 1694 the amiable and much-beloved 
Queen died of the small-pox, and she was hardly in her 
grave before the English Jacobites began to meet again, 
to conspire and to concert with James and his advisers 
fresh schemes for his restoration. For a while they were 
weakened by internal divisions. One section of the party, 
which a little before Mary’s death came to be distinguished 
by the name of Compounders, coupling all their proposals 
of new measures with conditions that James, if restored, 
should grant a general amnesty, and give satisfactory 
guarantees for the future security of the privileges and 
liberties of the people, and of the civil and ecclesiastical 
constitution as established by the Bill of Rights; while the 


316 The English Revolution . 

other section, known as Non-compounders, taking their 
stand on James’s divine and indefeasible right to the throne, 
denied the existence of any power to impose conditions on 
his restoration, and affirmed that it belonged to him alone 
to decide whom he would pardon, whom he would send to 
the scaffold, and under what constitution or system he would 
govern. 

James himself agreed entirely with the Non-compounders. 
In 1692, while waiting with his army at La Hogue for 
Tourville’s victory to open the way for his invasion of the 
kingdom, he had, as has been already mentioned, published 
a declaration breathing nothing but vengeance against all 
to whom he ascribed the least share in his original over¬ 
throw, or in the continuance of his exile. And he made 
no secret of his resolution, if he were restored, that a 
majority of his Ministers, of his officers of the household, 
and of the officers of the army should always be Roman 
Catholics, in spite of any enactments which the Houses of 
Parliament might pass. 

But the remonstrances of the Compounders against 
the line of conduct which he adopted were so incessant 
and so plain-spoken, that, though they produced no 
change in his own notions, they made a great impres¬ 
sion on his French ally. Louis was not without means of 
obtaining a tolerably correct knowledge of the feelings 
of the English nation, and had reluctantly come to the 
conclusion that, unless James should make the concessions 
recommended by the Compounders, his restoration was im¬ 
possible. He was also well aware how greatly the resources 
of his own subjects were exhausted by the war; and he had 
no inclination to continue it for an unattainable object. 
He therefore advised compliance with the recommendations 


Advice of the Compounders. 317 

of the Compounders as the condition of his further co¬ 
operation ; and James, unable to dispense with his support, 
yielded, or pretended to yield; invited over to St. Germains 
the Earl of Middleton, one of the leaders of the compound¬ 
ing party, who had been a Minister in England under 
Charles II., and made him joint Secretary of State with 
Lord Melfort. 

It would have been a wise act had he given his new 
Minister his confidence, for Middleton was able, energetic, 
of fair character, and was not only possessed of considerable 
influence over the avowed Jacobites of both sections, but 
was also well acquainted with men like Marlborough, Russell, 
and others, who gave him constant assurances of their 
secret goodwill to his master. But in fact Middleton never 
obtained his confidence for a single moment. One proposal 
which he brought from the chiefs of the Compounders, that 
James should abdicate the throne in favour of his son, and 
allow the child to be bred up as a Protestant, was at once 
rejected with indignation. And, though he did eventually 
prevail upon James to adopt their advice in another matter, 
and to issue a new Declaration, containing a promise of an 
amnesty and of adherence to the established Constitution, 
James’s signature to it was affixed in deliberate treachery. 
Melfort was still the Minister whom he really trusted; and, 
while Middleton was encouraging his friends in England with 
the intelligence that he had at last brought him over to mode¬ 
rate counsels, Melfort was writing to Rome that the Declara¬ 
tion was but a blind, intended solely “to get James back 
to England, as he should be able to settle the affairs of the 
Catholics far better at Whitehall than at St. Germains.” 

1 Enfin, celle-ci (j’ entenc ^ s Declaration) n'est que pour rentrer; et 
l’on peut beaucoup mieux disputer des affaires des Catholiques a Whythall 


318 The English Revolution. 

The Declaration, however, which was published in April, 
1693, did James no service in England, if it did not even 
do him injury. The Whigs, and even the waverers among 
those who submitted to William, disbelieved his sincerity; 
while many of his partisans were offended at a clause in the 
Declaration which promised to maintain the settlement in 
Ireland. But Middleton, who had no suspicion of the 
disingenuousness with which he was treated, was unwearied 
in his exertions in his cause, labouring chiefly to persuade 
Louis at once to invade England with 30,000 men, or a 
still larger army if possible, as a step which would serve his 
own interests as well as the interests of James, by tending 
to break up the coalition against France of which William 
was the author. 1 His arguments were probably weakened 
in the eyes of Louis and his advisers by statements of the 
contempt in which William was held, which the French 
Government knew to be unfounded; and they were com¬ 
pletely overturned by the battle of Neerwinden, which 
occurred only a fortnight after the memorial embodying the 
scheme of invasion and the reasons for it was presented to 
Louis; and which, in spite of the decisive character of 
Luxemburg’s victory, left the victorious army in no condition 
to follow up its advantage, and Neerwinden, as we have 
already seen, was the last success that attended the French 
armies in Flanders. 

It was plain, therefore, that a fresh conspiracy was all that 

James had to trust to, and the grave had hardly closed over 

Queen Mary before the murderous plots were renewed. 

qu’a St.-Germains.”—Melfort’s letter, in the Appendix to M. Mazure’s 
History, quoted by Macaulay, vol. IV., p. 395. 

1 The date of the memorial in which Middleton urged this, and which is 
printed by Macpherson (I., p. 447), is July 14, 1693. Neerwinden was fought 
July 29. 


Charnock's Plot. 


319 


The first was organized by Robert Charnock, who had 
formerly been a fellow of Magdalen College, Oxford, and 
had since received a captain's commission from James; his 
accomplices were Sir William Parkyns, a wealthy lawyer, 
with some men of notoriously bad character, of whom the 
most active were Porter, a man who had been convicted of 
manslaughter, and was suspected of still worse actions; and 
Goodman, who had been a forger and a highwayman, and 
had even been found guilty of an attempt at assassination 
by means of poison; and Charnock hoped also to obtain the 
co-operation of Sir John Fenwick, a man of high connec¬ 
tions and great influence in the northern counties, and so 
fanatical in his Jacobitism that he had formerly not scrupled 
to insult Queen Mary herself. They professed not to con¬ 
template the assassination of William, but to content them¬ 
selves with seizing him and conveying him to France; 
though it was so obvious that such an exploit was impossible, 
and that the conspirators could intend nothing short of 
William's death, that Fenwick refused to be connected with 
their plot, though his conscience did not forbid him to keep 
their secret. They were unable, however, to carry out their 
purpose as soon as they had intended; they laid it before 
James, for his approval, which he at first forbore to express, 
hoping apparently that they would act without it, and 
flattering himself with Jesuitical casuistry that his silence 
would exonerate him from guilt. But, while they were 
waiting, William quitted England to resume the command 
of the army in Flanders, and they had leisure to mature 
and expand the plot before his return. 

William returned in October, to find himself more popular 
than he ever had been. The nation sympathized with him 
in his deep sorrow for the loss of the Queen; they exulted 


320 


The English Revolution. 


with him with at least equal fervour in the glory of the 
splendid recapture of Namur. He made a progress through 
the midland counties, visiting Cambridge and Oxford, and 
many other chief towns and cities, and the houses of several 
of the greatest nobles of the kingdom. Everywhere he was 
received with an enthusiastic welcome, and London was 
illuminated with unprecedented splendour on the day on 
which he re-entered it. He dissolved the Parliament, and 
the electors were almost everywhere favourable to theTVhigs, 
and to the resolute supporters of the new dynasty. 

The Jacobites of rank could not blind themselves to the 
general feeling. Those who had much to lose became very 
cautious. But Charnock and his accomplices at once 
revived their plots, and by this time they had secured the 
full sanction of James, 1 who at the beginning of 1696 sent 
the Duke of Berwick himself over to London to endeavour 
to concert measures with his friends in England. There 
were now two plots ; or rather the original plot was divided 
into two parts; one part of it contemplated assassination 
without disguise, the other part embraced an insurrection 
of Jacobites in England, to be supported by an invasion from 
France. The details of the latter, which, as a matter of 
course, depended mainly on the success of the former, were 
entrusted to Berwick, but he found an insurmountable 
difficulty in completing the arrangements ; the Jacobites 
absolutely refused to rise till a French army had effected a 
landing in the kingdom; 2 while Louis, though willing enough 

> LeRoi Jacques avait sous main concerte un soulevement en Angle- 
terre, ou il avait fait passer nombre d’officiers.— Berwick, vol. I., p. 142. 

2 Le Roi tres Chretien consentait volontiers a le fournir [un corps de 
troupes], mais il insistait qu'avant de faire l’embarquement les Anglais 
prissent les armes.Ils demeurerent fermes a vouloir 



Barclays Plot. 


321 


to furnish an army, required that before he embarked a single 
soldier, the insurrection should have been begun in England. 
Unable to induce either Louis or the Jacobites to recede 
from their demand, Berwick returned to France, to tell his 
father that the design of invasion must be laid aside, at 
least till it should be seen what aspect affairs would assume 
after William’s death, and of that he expected that a few 
days would bring the intelligence. 

That part of the plot which comprised the King’s assassin¬ 
ation had been entrusted by James to a man of greater con¬ 
sideration, and one more habituated to danger than Charnock 
or Parkyns. Sir George Barclay was an old soldier who 
had served under Dundee. He received instructions from 
James himself, and, in the course of January, crossed over 
to London, bearing' tokens to enable Charnock and the rest 
to recognize him, and he was followed at intervals by other 
officers and soldiers who had been in James’s body-guard 
since Killiecrankie and Aghrim, and who could be thoroughly 
depended on. About twenty came in this way over from 
France. Charnock and Parkyns undertook to provide 
twenty more. 

And after discussing several modes of proceeding it was 
at last determined to attack William as he returned from 
hunting. Every Saturday he went from Kensington to 
Richmond for that purpose, crossing the Thames by a ferry 
at Turnham Green; and, as his military escort was usually 
small, it was expected that Barclay and his band would find 
it easy to overpower them. The day fixed was the 13th of 
February. The plan was well laid ; so well, indeed, that had 
the murderers been commonly cautious, and at the same 

qu'avant de se soulever le Roi d'Angleterre (James) mit pied a terre avec 
une armee.— Berwick, Mem. vol. I., pp. 143-4. 


Y 


322 


The English Revolution. 


time true to one another, it could hardly have failed. But 
they were neither cautious nor faithful. Porter invited the 
co-operation of a gentleman named Pendergrass, whom he 
conceived that he had laid under obligations; but Pender¬ 
grass, though a Roman Catholic and a keen Jacobite, recoiled 
from so base a crime, and at once gave warning to Lord 
Portland. He was not the first to reveal what was in pre¬ 
paration. One of those who, at first, had willingly engaged 
in the plot, a man named Fisher, had found his heart fail 
him as the day of action approached, and he had already 
told Portland a similar story. His character was too bad 
for his tale to obtain much attention, but Portland could not 
disbelieve Pendergrass, and, though not without difficulty, 
persuaded William to give up his stag-hunt for the day. His 
change of purpose did not awaken the suspicion of the 
conspirators, for the day was stormy ; they fearlessly post¬ 
poned the attack till that day week, and, before that day 
arrived, other informers confirmed the story, and the Govern¬ 
ment was even put in possession of all the details of the 
conspiracy, and of the names and abodes or hiding-places 
of the chief conspirators. 

The popularity of which William had received such tokens 
in the autumn had not yet passed away; and it was increased 
for the moment by the detestation of assassination which 
has always been so marked a characteristic of the English 
people. Barclay unluckily escaped, but in the course of a 
few days all the rest of the conspirators were arrested. And 
William went down in state to Parliament, to make a formal 
announcement to both the Houses of the danger from which 
Providence had preserved himself, and also of the risk of 
foreign invasion to which the kingdom was still exposed. 
Such a statement appealed to the feelings of every English- 


An Association is formed. 323 

man ; and united all hearts in his favour. The Houses 
unanimously voted loyal addresses of congratulation, and 
passed one bill to suspend the Habeas Corpus Act, and 
another to provide for their own continuance in the event of 
the King's death ; since it was obvious that one of the objects 
aimed at by his murder was to take advantage of the confu¬ 
sion and anarchy which, without some precautionary measure 
of this kind, such a sudden calamity might be expected to 
create. And these measures were crowned by a vote for the 
drawing up of an instrument by which the members of both 
Houses should form themselves into an Association, owning 
William for their rightful and lawful King; binding them¬ 
selves to adhere to him against King James and the pre¬ 
tended Prince of Wales ; and engaging to maintain the Act 
•of Succession, and, in the event of his murder, to revenge his 
death on all who should be concerned in it. 

A warm debate arose : some members, professing an 
extreme scrupulousness, objected to the unscriptural feeling 
implied in the word revenge, till their scruples were pacified 
by the production of a similar document framed and signed 
in the reign of Elizabeth. But a keener discussion arose on 
another point, which is worth recording as a specimen of 
the strange cavils by which even those who had no scruples 
about obeying William were accustomed to permit them¬ 
selves to be deluded, and of the real and great difficulties 
with which William was embarrassed throughout his whole 
reign. Lord Nottingham had served William as Secretary 
of State for four years; yet he now objected to a deed in 
which he was described as the rightful and lawful King, 
on the ground that those terms could only be applied to a 
prince who had inherited the Crown by legal descent. He 
had no difficulty in recognizing him as King, nor in promising 

y 2 


324 


The English Revolution. 


to obey him faithfully; but call him rightful and lawful King 
he would not, though nothing could be plainer than that 
to give allegiance and loyal obedience to one who was not 
a lawful King was, on his own principles, a crime against 
some one else who had the lawful right which he denied to 
William ; for that, in a Monarchy, some one must be a lawful 
King was undeniable. Yet, childish as such a cavil was, it 
influenced so many that the Lords remodelled the phrase, 
though the alteration which they adopted seems to an 
ordinary apprehension stronger than the original expression. 

The bond of Association, as finally settled, affirmed that 
William had by law the right to the Crown, and that neither 
King James nor the pretended Prince of Wales had any 
right whatever. And in this form it was eagerly signed by 
avast majority of both Houses. Eighty obstinate Tories, 
in the Lower House, and fifteen in the Upper, were all who 
could be induced to withhold their signatures, and the accept¬ 
ance of the deed was not confined to the two Houses, it 
was sent over the whole kingdom, and was signed with 
enthusiastic unanimity by all classes, the exceptions being 
so few as only to make the general assent more striking. It 
was even transmitted to the colonies; and to foreign cities 
wherever British subjects had settled in any considerable 
number ; and it met with an equally warm reception from the 
English merchants at Genoa, from the planters at Barbadoes, 
and from the thriving community which dwelt on the eastern 
shores of North America, and which was increasing with a 
rapidity which already gave some indications of its future 
greatness. 

Among the classes on which the defence of the country 
more especially depended, equal enthusiasm prevailed. The 
militia hastened to take arms. The seamen thronged to 


Trials of the Conspirators. 


325 


enter the naval service in such numbers that, by the middle 
of the week, Russell was able to put to sea at the head of 
one large well-manned fleet, while a second was ready to 
sail. And along all the main roads, and in every country 
village, the utmost anxiety was shown to secure those of the 
conspirators who had escaped from London, and who, it 
was supposed, might be seeking hiding-places in the pro¬ 
vincial districts. 

As has been already mentioned, all except Barclay were 
soon taken; and as punishment makes the greater impres¬ 
sion the more immediately it is inflicted, they were brought 
to trial without delay. They were prosecuted in batches, 
and it is remarkable that they were not all tried according 
to the same mode of procedure. In the preceding year, 
a bill had been passed which introduced some merciful 
alterations in the conduct of trials for high treason ; and 
especially provided that those accused of such a crime might 
have legal assistance, which had hitherto been denied to 
persons in that condition. The Act was to come into opera¬ 
tion on the 25 th of March, in this year. But Charnock and 
two others, King and Keyes, who were included with him in 
the first indictment that was preferred, were put to the bar 
on the nth. They earnestly demanded, either that the 
Act should be anticipated, by allowing them the aid of 
counsel a fortnight before the time ; or that the trial should 
be postponed. The judges refused the application; and 
it does not seem easy to justify the refusal. But no aid of 
counsel could have availed the prisoners; some of their 
accomplices, and among them Porter himself, one of the 
first contrivers of the plot, had turned King's evidence, and 
the proof of everything charged against them was irresist¬ 
ible. They were convicted and executed. Sir William 


326 The English Revolution. 

Parkyns and Sir John Friend came next; they met the 
same fate. But the third batch, Lockwood, Cranbourne, 
and Colonel Lowick, were not brought before the Court 
till the 25th had passed. They therefore were defended by 
a lawyer of eminent skill; but no exertions of his could 
weaken, much less disprove, the charge ; they too were 
convicted and hanged; and the Government, with rare 
moderation, contented itself with these examples. Of the 
rest, some were banished, some imprisoned for short 
periods; some, confessing their guilt, were pardoned. 

There was indeed one other victim, a man of far higher 
position, whose fate caused far greater excitement ; and is 
memorable as being the last instance in our history of the 
Parliament interfering to destroy one whom the ordinary 
laws could not reach. Sir John Fenwick was a man of 
considerable importance in the northern counties; he was 
highly connected, being married to a sister of the Earl of 
Carlisle, and he was a soldier of experience and reputation. 
His return for the county of Northumberland, in James’s 
Parliament of 1685, had been celebrated by the Court party 
as a triumph over the Whigs; since the establishment of 
the new dynasty, he had ostentatiously identified himself 
with the Jacobite party, had refused to take the oaths to 
the new Sovereigns, and had even made himself con¬ 
spicuous by personal insolence to Mary, refusing to take off 
his hat as she passed, and coarsely staring in her face in 
the Park in London. 

It was therefore natural that the contrivers of the different 
plots for the restoration of James should apply to him for 
co-operation; and, accordingly, Charnock had opened to 
him the details of his conspiracy. According to his own 
statement, which was probably true, and which Burnet evi- 


Arrest of Sir John Fenwick. 327 

dently believed, 1 though he cordially approved of James’s 
projected invasion, he recoiled with horror from the design 
of assassination; even threatening the conspirators to reveal 
their plan to the Government, if they did not abandon that 
portion of it. But, as the Bishop truly remarks, he was too 
easy of belief that they had abandoned it, and kept their 
communications secret; so that when those of the conspi¬ 
rators who gave evidence for the Crown included him in 
the number of those who had been privy to the plot, the 
Government had no reason to suspect that his complicity 
in it had been partial, and offered a large reward for his 
apprehension. He was taken on the Kentish coast, when on 
the point of escaping to France; but he had the address to 
procure a postponement of his trial by an offer to make im¬ 
portant revelations respecting the general views and designs 
of his party; and his friends employed the interval in brib¬ 
ing one of the only two witnesses whose testimony he had 
reason to fear. Goodman, for a large annuity, consented to 
quit the country; and there was but one witness left on 
whom the Crown could rely; while by the old law, which 
in this respect had been confirmed by the recent Act, no one 
accused of high treason could be convicted without his 
guilt had been proved by the testimony of two. 

Unluckily for Fenwick, the very means by which he had 
hoped to save his life had roused against him the personal 
enmity of powerful men in both Houses of Parliament. 
In the confession with which, in order to gain time, he had 
sought to amuse the Government, he had abstained from 
saying a word to endanger any of his Jacobite friends, but 
had sought to set the King against some of the Ministers 

1 Hallam also, vol. III., p. 178, acquits Fenwick of being privy to the 
assassination plot. 


328 The English, Revolution. 

themselves, and others of the Whig leaders, by affirming that 
they were in constant communication with the Court of St. 
Germains, and that it was on their support that James 
placed no small part of his reliance. Marlborough, Godol- 
phin, Shrewsbury, and Russell were among those whom he 
thus accused ; and his revelations were so far true, that 
undoubtedly every one of them had, in former years, 
allowed the emissaries of James to tamper with them; 
though it was- also certain that they had all by this time 
abandoned all idea of bringing James back, and were now 
fast friends of the existing Government. 

But the more ground they had given for the accusation, 
the greater indignation some of them thought it necessary 
to affect; in particular Russell, who was a member of the 
House of Commons, rose in his place to demand that 
Fenwick’s confession should be taken into cbnsideration. 
His demand was granted; and, after a brief though angry 
discussion, and an examination of Fenwick himself, the 
House voted that his statements had been false and scan¬ 
dalous, and intended only to create jealousies between the 
King and his servants, and to screen real traitors. Such a 
vote, though it affirmed a manifest truth, was of no great 
importance, and opened no way of inflicting on Fenwick 
any further punishment than that of committal to the Tower; 
but, in the somewhat tumultuous agitation which accompanied 
its passing, some voices raised the cry of “ attainder.” It 
was taken up by the whole body of Whigs in the House; 
a motion for a bill to attaint Fenwick was at once made, 
and after a fierce debate was carried by a large majority. 
Two days afterwards the bill was brought in by the Crown 
lawyers; it was read a first time ; the second reading was 
stoutly contested. Fenwick was permitted to appear by 


A Bill of Attainder . 


329 


counsel against it; and the appearance of a trial was so far 
given to the debate that Porter was examined; though, with 
an irregularity which no court of justice would have tolerated 
in the very worst times, the House also allowed evidence 
to be given of what Goodman would have been able to 
prove could the prosecutors have produced him, and of 
what he actually had proved against some of the other 
conspirators. 

The Tory party in the House, of which nearly all the 
members had Jacobite leanings, fought stoutly for their 
friend; and many also who were not Tories resisted a bill 
which seemed by implication to put every man’s life at 
the mercy of a Parliamentary majority. But, though the 
majority diminished in every division, the bill was finally 
passed by the Commons, and sent up to the House of Lords. 
There it was debated with even greater vehemence. So 
resolute were its promoters to carry it that officers were 
sent about to bring up any Peer who was suspected of a 
design to absent himself; and even the Bishops were com¬ 
pelled to vote, in spite of one of the canons of the Church 
which forbids divines to take any part in the infliction of 
capital punishment. As in the House of Commons, the 
majority for passing the bill diminished with every division, 
and the third reading was only carried by a majority of 
seven. 

The smallness of the majority revived the hopes of his 
friends; and, even after the bill was passed, great efforts 
were made to procure the prisoner’s pardon. His wife, a 
member of the great family of Howard, presented one 
petition to the House of Lords, and threw herself at the 
King’s feet with another, imploring that her husband’s 
sentence might be commuted into one of perpetual banish- 


330 


The English Revolution. 

ment. But William remembered that Fenwick had insulted 
the Queen, whom he still mourned, and was inexorable. In 
consideration of the mode of procedure adopted against 
him, and of his noble connections, Sir John was indeed 
complimented with the axe on Tower Hill, instead of being 
subjected to the indignity of the gallows at Tyburn. But 
that was the only favour granted him; and on the 28th of 
January, 1697, he was executed. 

It. is now universally admitted that bills of attainder are 
indefensible on principle. During the fierce contests of the 
16th and 17th centuries they had been employed by all 
parties against their adversaries, sometimes to create a new 
offence or to affix a definite character of guilt to deeds 
against which the laws had made no provision; sometimes 
to inflict a punishment beyond that which the law sanc¬ 
tioned ; sometimes, as in the present case, to supply a de¬ 
ficiency of legal evidence. Every one of these objects is 
clearly unjustifiable. And such a measure is also open to a 
still graver objection. To pass it the Houses of Parliament 
erect themselves into a judicial tribunal, while the accused 
person, on whose fate they assume to decide, is deprived of 
all the safeguards to which every one in such a situation is 
entitled. The Houses are at once prosecutors, jury, and 
judges; and the history of every former measure of the 
kind shows that as judges they were accustomed to decide 
under no feeling of responsibility; that they did not even 
make any pretence to impartiality; but permitted the intro¬ 
duction of arguments wholly foreign to the real merits of the 
case, and often diametrically opposed to admitted rules of 
law; and, in fact, showed themselves almost wholly and 
avowedly influenced by party considerations. 

In the case of Fenwick, their proceeding was in one 


Objections to Bills of A ttainder. 


331 


point of view even more reprehensible than any former 
measure of the same character, for the object of it was to 
convict on the evidence of a single witness; while in an 
Act which had been passed in the very same year, the old 
provision which made the evidence of two witnesses indis¬ 
pensable had been deliberately retained. The advocates 
for the bill contended that the requirement was absurd; 
that there was no possible justification for requiring 
stronger proof before a man could be convicted of trea¬ 
son, than was sufficient to send him to the gallows for 
murder; that the evidence of one man of good character 
was in truth far more weighty and trustworthy than the 
evidence of two, or of a score, of witnesses of bad charac¬ 
ter (though they could not pretend that Porter’s character 
was other than infamous); that there was no moral doubt of 
Fenwick’s guilt; that it would be a great evil that he should 
escape punishment; and that there was no other mode by 
which he could be reached. 

It was answered that no evil could be so great as that 
of overbearing the securities which a law so recently 
passed had preserved for those who might fall under the 
displeasure of the Government; and that the fact of pro¬ 
secutions for treason being necessarily Government prose¬ 
cutions rendered it not unreasonable that more evidence 
should be required in them than in actions between subject 
and subject. The opponents of the bill dwelt, too, on the 
extreme danger in which the liberties of the whole nation 
would be placed if Parliament should acquire a habit of 
erecting itself into a judicial tribunal; and further contended 
that, even if it were granted that some acts of attainder 
might possibly be justifiable, their justification must depend 
on the power of the person attainted to render himself for- 


332 The English Revolution. 

midable to the Constitution or to the Government, a con¬ 
dition which no one could pretend to exist in the case of 
Fenwick. Thqy showed, too, that all recent acts of attainder 
had been condemned by public opinion, since they had been 
unanimously reversed by subsequent Parliaments. Party 
spirit, as we have seen, overbore these arguments for the 
time; but they have been endorsed by all succeeding 
generations, and the blood of Fenwick is the last that has 
been shed by any sentence save one passed by the 
established courts of justice. 


333 


CHAPTER XV. 

General weariness of the war—Louis proposes Peace—The treaty of 
Ryswick—Subsequent occurrences of William’s reign—William de¬ 
sires to keep on foot a large army, and to retain his Dutch regiments 
—The Houses annul the grants of the Irish forfeited lands—The 
Commons resort to a tack—The partition treaties—Charles bequeaths 
his dominions to the Duke d’Anjou—Impeachment and acquittal of 
Lord Somers—The succession to the Crown is settled on the Electress 
Sophia—Death of James II. — Louis proclaims the Pretender King of 
England—Death of William—General view of the Revolution— 
Character of the King and of the English statesmen of his reign— 
William — Halifax — Nottingham and Caermarthen — Somers and 
Montague—The great legislative measures of William’s reign—The 
legislative Union with Scotland—Failure of the rebellions of 1715 
and 1745 to overthrow, the principles of the Revolution —Necessity 
of the Revolution. 

Detected and baffled as it had been, this conspiracy had 
strengthened the King’s Government The baseness of 
the project of assassination had discredited plots and 
plotters, and during the rest of William’s life he was never 
threatened by any similar danger. 

Meanwhile the war was drawing to a conclusion. The 
combatants on both sides were nearly exhausted. The 
English Parliament, indeed, still granted the King unprece¬ 
dented sums of money to keep on foot so large a force as 
had never been dreamt of in any former war. Nearly five 
millions of money were voted to pay 87,000 soldiers, and 
40,000 sailors 3 and the Bank of England, a corporation 


334 


The English Revolution. 


which the ingenuity of Montague had recently called into 
existence, provided gold and silver in advance for exporta¬ 
tion to Flanders. But our allies were less steadfast. In the 
course of the winter the Duke of Savoy made peace with 
France, and there was too much reason to fear that his 
defection was but an omen of the course which other 
members of the coalition were prepared to follow. 

But no country was so exhausted by the war as France ; 
and no Sovereign was so weary of it as Louis himself. He 
knew that the state of destitution of his country was uni¬ 
versal and intolerable; and, little as he regarded the suffer¬ 
ings of his people, so long as they could contribute to his 
glory, he could not conceal from himself the fact that the 
last campaigns had brought him disaster and discredit 
rather than honour. Nor could he doubt that all prospect 
of a counter-revolution in England had passed away, or 
that James was not an ally for whose sake it was worth 
while to make further sacrifices. He could not, indeed, 
make peace without some sacrifice of his pride; for the 
unconditional recognition of William as King of these 
islands was an indispensable preliminary to any negotiation. 
But the necessities of the case outweighed any such con¬ 
sideration ; and, in the course of the winter he intimated 
that for the re-establishment of peace he was prepared to 
make that great concession. It was the first time in a 
reign which had already been protracted to a duration 
longer than that of any previous King of France, that 
Louis had been reduced to propose peace instead of grant¬ 
ing it as a conqueror. But, though in the first moment of 
his exultation at the withdrawal of Savoy from the con¬ 
federacy against him, he seemed inclined to recall his 
offer, he soon renewed it, and in the spring of 1697, the 


Negotiations for Peace. 


■335 


plenipotentiaries of all the belligerents met at a village 
called Ryswick, in the neighbourhood of the Hague, to 
compose their differences under the mediation of the King 
of Sweden. 

While the arrangements were entrusted to the profes¬ 
sional diplomatists, the time was wasted in childish cere¬ 
monies, and the discussion of points of punctilio and 
etiquette. At last William grew weary of their indecision, 
and resolved to employ Portland 1 to negotiate with one of 
the French marshals, who might be expected to move by a 
straighter path to the desired end. Boufflers was the one 
whom he selected, as a straightforward soldier; and, as that 
officer stood high in the confidence of his own master also, 
when Portland wrote to him to request an interview, Louis 
made no difficulty in consenting. A hundred years after¬ 
wards, Nelson confessed that “seamen are but bad nego¬ 
tiators, for they put to issue in five minutes what diplomatic 
forms would be five months doing and soldiers (if, indeed, 
Portland could fairly be called a soldier) now conducted 
their transactions with similar unprofessional rapidity. 

The matters in which our allies took the chief interest 
were what portion of his recent conquests Louis should re¬ 
tain, and what he should restore. With such questions we 
had nothing to do. He had conquered nothing belonging 
to Britain ; and our armies had never attempted to cross the 


i It deserves, however, to be remarked that, according to Burnet (II., 
200), it was Boufflers who proposed the interviews to Portland; not 
Portland who proposed them to Boufflers. But in this instance I have pre¬ 
ferred following Lord Macaulay, because a desire for a prompt unevasive 
termination of the discussions is much more in accordance with the cha¬ 
racter of the straightforward King of England, than with that of Louis, 
who was always tricky and shuffling where he could not be insolent and 
overbearing. The point is, however, of no practical consequence. 


336 - The English Revolution . 

French frontier. The points, therefore, which our nego¬ 
tiators had to discuss referred to our internal politics. It 
would have been derogatory to the right of - Englishmen as a 
free people to choose their own rulers, and to the position of 
William himself as their chosen King, to stipulate that Louis 
should acknowledge him as such. The mere fact of treating 
with him was a sufficient recognition of his Sovereignty; but 
as the war, now about to be terminated, had been brought 
on by Louis’s efforts to effect the restoration of James, it 
was proper and reasonable that precautions should be taken 
against any renewal, direct or indirect, of such endeavours ; 
and on the character and extent of these precautions much 
discussion necessarily arose. 

Each potentate desired to obtain objects which the other 
thought it improper or unbecoming to make matters of 
stipulation, though willing to admit that they were such as 
it was desirable to carry out. It seemed to Louis unworthy 
of his character for hospitality, and unseemly from his 
relationship to James, to give a formal promise to remove 
the exiled Royal family from St. Germains, or indeed to name 
James at all in the treaty, though Boufflers was allowed to 
express an informal hope that James might be induced in 
future to hold his court at Avignon. It seemed to William 
still more derogatory to his rights over his own subjects to 
permit Louis to require him to grant an amnesty to the 
Jacobites, though he had no objection that Portland should 
assure Boufflers in the strongest terms that he should never 
remember the past hostility of any one who should for the 
future conduct himself peaceably. But it was easy to waive 
any mention of these conditions, which were in fact first pro¬ 
posed for the sake of the dignity of the contracting Sovereigns 
rather than for security. And thus, between two straight- 


The Peace of Rysivick. 337 

forward men, who honestly desired to conclude the quarrel 
on a fair footing, everything was soon arranged. 

It was curious that the only real difficulties which were 
made came from William’s allies, who had nothing to gain 
and everything to lose by the continuance of the war, who 
were utterly unable to maintain it without his assistance, 
and who in fact were heavy losers by the delays which they 
succeeded in interposing to the signature of peace. 

Spain, though neither her armies nor her fleets had gained 
a single advantage in the whole course of the war, demanded 
large concessions from France, and thus gave time for a 
French squadron to cross the Atlantic and sack Carthagena, 
and for the Duke de Vendome to take Barcelona, in Spain 
itself. The Emperor, by demands equally unreasonable, 
delayed the signature beyond the appointed day, the 21st of 
August, and thus provoked Louis into declaring that he would 
no longer consent to restore Strasburg; and that, if any 
further difficulties were raised, he would keep still more of his 
conquests. James, also, not unnaturally desirous to impede 
a treaty which he felt would be an insuperable bar to all his 
prospects of recovering his throne, sought to embarrass the 
negotiators by making a formal protest against the right of 
William to conclude a treaty on behalf of the English nation 
while he himself was King of England. But no one paid 
the least attention to his remonstrances; and the German 
and Spanish Ministers were presently given to understand 
that if they hesitated any longer to become parties to the 
contemplated peace, England and France would sign the 
treaty without waiting for them. 

This firmness prevailed. On the 10th of September the 
treaty was signed by the plenipotentiaries of all the belli¬ 
gerent powers except the Emperor, and by his Minister a few 

z 


338 


The English Revolution. 


weeks afterwards. William was described in the treaty as 
King of Great Britain, France, and Ireland; and Louis 
engaged “ never to trouble nor disquiet in any way whatever 
the King of Great Britain in the possession of the dominions 
which his Britannic Majesty enjoyed at that time present, 
giving his ro3 T al word not to assist, directly or indirectly, any 
of the enemies of the King of Great Britain, nor to favour 
in any manner any conspiracy, secret intrigue, or rebellion 
which might arise in England;” 1 and, in return, William 
promised to countenance no attempt to disturb the Govern¬ 
ment of France. Louis greatly disliked this stipulation, since 
his Government had no enemies ; but William insisted on 
it, since his own dignity required that all such covenants 
should be reciprocal, and on this as on most other points 
Louis was forced to yield. William, on his part, consented 
to the omission of any mention of the desired change of 
James’s residence ; but as Louis had at one time demanded 
a clause to secure to Mary of Modena the payment of her 
jointure of fifty thousand pounds a year, which had formerly 
been settled on her by the English Parliament, Portland was 
allowed to promise the French negotiators that, if James 
and his court withdrew from St. Germains to Avignon, or 
to any place beyond the Alps, the annuity should be paid. 

On the 14th of September, Prior, the poet, who had acted 
as secretary to the English plenipotentiaries, arrived in 
London with the British copy of the treaty duly executed. 
The Jacobites were thrown into utter confusion, for to the 
last moment they had persisted in asserting that no consider¬ 
ations of policy would ever induce Louis to abandon the 

1 The words of this clause are taken from Sismondi, who adds : “This 
recognition of William III., and this abandonment of James II., was the 
sacrifice which co 3 t most to the pride of Louis XIV.” 


Completion of the Revolution. 


339 


cause of James, much less to recognize the usurpation of 
the Prince of Orange. But by all the rest of the kingdom 
his arrival was greeted with an enthusiastic joy which had 
perhaps hardly been exceeded except at the Restoration; 
and, in truth, the Treaty of Ryswick was an event that jus¬ 
tified the general exultation, since it had finally placed the 
Revolution on a secure footing. The conviction of the 
traitors and murderers in the preceding year had given the 
death-blow to all internal conspiracies. The recognition of 
William's title by all the principal Roman Catholic powers of 
Europe, put an end to eveiy idea that any one of them would 
ever again take arms to restore his predecessor. For though 
four years afterwards Louis, with his inveterate perfidy, 
proclaimed James's son as King, and involved his kingdom 
in a fresh war which brought it to the very extremity of dis¬ 
aster and degradation, no serious mention was ever made 
of the claims of the Stuarts from the hour on which the 
herald made his insolent proclamation at St. Germains, till 
that day on which, at Utrecht, Louis agreed to refuse the 
Pretender leave to dwell any longer in any part of his 
dominions. Nor was one single operation of the war dictated 
by a regard for his interests. 

The Revolution, therefore, was now fully completed, and 
placed on a firm and immovable footing. The latter years 
of William’s life were not indeed unmarked by events of 
great importance, some of which caused him great dis¬ 
quietude and annoyance, while others testified strongly to 
the greatness of his and his kingdom’s reputation and 
influence even in the eyes of his enemies. And those of 
each class throw almost equal light on his character, since 
it is not denied by his warmest admirers that the vexations 
which he experienced he had brought on himself by con- 


z 2 


340 


The English Revolution. 


duct which almost bore the appearance of a contemptuous 
disregard of the feelings of his new subjects. 

It has been already mentioned that, even while the war 
lasted, the Houses of Parliament had interfered to check 
the prodigality with which he persisted in enriching his 
Dutch favourites ; and, after the peace, the people had 
greater leisure to investigate the details of his conduct in 
this respect; while he, instead of seeking to propitiate the 
Houses, irritated them still further by his desire to keep on 
foot a large army of regular troops, and to retain among 
them several Dutch regiments. The inclination of the 
country, on the contrary, was to trust to the militia as its 
army. In the general view, the navy and the militia were 
defensive forces; an army of regular soldiers was an 
aggressive force, and the unprecedented expense of the late 
campaigns had given the whole nation a distaste for foreign 
war. William’s views were widely different. As a states¬ 
man he could still foresee the possibility of a renewal of the 
struggle with France; and as a soldier he was well aware 
that a militia, with its necessarily imperfect training and 
experience, could be no match for the veterans whom, in 
such a case, the French marshals would once more bring 
into the field. 

He might, in all probablity, have been able to prevail with 
the Houses to allow him a regular army, which, if not as 
large as he could have desired, would still have been 
respectable, and available as a nucleus for a larger force, 
if an emergency should arise, if he had been contented that 
it should consist of British soldiers only. But his unwise 
persistence in endeavouring to retain his Dutch regiments 
defeated all his views. The Houses reminded him of the 
promise contained in his Declaration of 1688 to send back 


34i 


Grants of Irish Forfeitures. 

all the foreign regiments which he had brought with him, as 
soon as he should have effected the deliverance of the 
country; and steadily refused to retain in the national 
service any but native soldiers. And it was probably in 
some degree to show their sense of the ungracious reluctance 
with which he eventually yielded that they took the strong 
step of annulling his grants of estates in Ireland to his 
favourites. 

The conclusion of the war in Ireland had left an 
enormous quantity of land, at the lowest computation above 
a million and a half of English acres, which had been for¬ 
feited by the adherents of James, at the disposal of the 
new Government ; and William, with his habitually lavish 
prodigality to his own countrymen, had distributed nearly 
the whole of it among them. Portland, and a new favourite, 
Keppel, who had recently been raised to the English peer- 
- age as Earl of Albemarle, obtained the largest share; while 
smaller estates were given to Ginkell, now Earl of Athlone, 
and to Rouvigny, now Earl of Galway, who, indeed, was not 
a Dutchman, but a French refugee. Another estate, which, 
however, was not carved out of the forfeited lands, had been 
granted to William’s mistress, Elizabeth Villiers, whose 
husband had been created Earl of Orkney: a grant and a 
promotion which bore but too much resemblance to acts 
which many regarded as the chief disgrace of Charles II. 
It was not, however, denied that by the ancient Constitution, 
or at least the ancient custom of the kingdom, the Sovereign 
had a right to dispose of the Crown domains according to 
his pleasure. And, though in more than one instance the 
Houses of Parliament had passed acts for the resumption 
of improvident or mischievous grants, the last measure 
of that kind had been prompted by the covetousness of 


342 


The English Revolution. 


Henry VII., who took this mode, among others, of re¬ 
venging himself on the adherents of the House of York; 
and since his time no attempt had been made to set a 
limit to the right of the Sovereign to give away what was 
regarded as his own. 

But the Irish forfeitures stood on a wholly different 
ground. They were so far from being looked upon as 
property belonging to the Crown, that, even before the end 
of the Irish war, a bill for applying them to the public 
service had been passed by the House of Commons; and 
though William, in order to go to Holland, prorogued the 
Parliament before it could go through the necessary stages 
in the House of Lords, in the speech with which he dis¬ 
missed the Houses he promised them not to deal with the 
lands in question till they themselves had had an opportunity 
of deciding on their disposal. But when they met again 
other matters which seemed of more pressing necessity 
absorbed their attention. And William, with something of 
pettifogging casuistry, chose, or pretended to think, that their 
subsequent silence on the subject released him from his 
promise. The Commons refused to agree with him. He 
was so unwise in his petulance as to defend his grants on 
the pretext that he had thought himself bound to reward 
those who had borne a principal part in the reduction of 
Ireland; a plea which was manifestly untrue, for Portland 
had only been in Ireland a few weeks, nor had he ever 
held a command there; while Keppel had never been in 
the country at all. And the Parliament was so irritated, 
both by the acts and by the arguments thus put forth to 
justify them, that the opposition had no difficulty in carrying 
a resolution that whoever had advised the King to return 
such an answer was an enemy to his Majesty and the king- 


TJie Practice of Tacking . 343 

dom ; and in- persuading the Houses to pass votes annulling 
the grants. 

These votes, though dictated by temporary irritation, 
became of constitutional importance, as establishing a new 
precedent; for they showed so clearly that royal grants 
would henceforth depend for their permanence on the 
pleasure of Parliament that from that day no Sovereign has 
alienated any portion of the Crown lands by his single 
authority. And in the very next reign, when the transcen¬ 
dent services of Marlborough called for a reward, Anne was 
advised not to give him the royal manor of Woodstock by 
her own ordinance, but to invite the Parliament to settle it 
on him and his heirs by a formal enactment. 

The discussion of this subject was remarkable for another 
reason also, since it afforded an example of a parliamentary 
manoeuvre which the Commons' had tried without success 
once before, in which they succeeded now, but which, if they 
had been able to establish it as a settled practice, would 
have annihilated the rights of the House of Peers, and have 
entirely subverted the Constitution. There were details in 
the measure for investigating the disposal of the Irish forfei¬ 
tures as proposed and carried in the Commons, of which 
the Lords disapproved; after the investigation was con¬ 
cluded, the Lords regarded some parts of the bill which 
revoked the grants with still greater disfavour; and those 
who had the chief influence in the Commons, where during 
the years which immediately succeeded the Treaty of Ryswick 
the King’s Ministers were almost powerless, believed that 
the Lords would amend one or both of these measures, and 
were determined to prevent them. 

It was an admitted principle of the Constitution that the 
Upper House could not amend a Money Bill : they could 


344 


The English Revolution. 

reject it, but they could not alter one clause or word in it. 
Accordingly the Commons joined, or, to use the new word 
invented for the occasion, they tacked the bills for appoint¬ 
ing Commissioners to take account of the Irish forfeitures 
to Money Bills, the passing of which was necessary for the 
service of the State ; and thus left the Lords no alternative 
but those of either passing bills which they considered 
unjust, or rejecting others which were indispensable to pro¬ 
vide for the payment of the national creditors and for the 
defence of the nation. The Peers resisted to the uttermost, 
as men who felt that the political independence of their 
order, and, by consequence, the whole balance of the Con¬ 
stitution, was at stake. They made amendments; and though 
some members of the Commons were so violent and shame¬ 
less as to hint a threat of hereafter “ tacking ” Bills of 
Attainder to Bills of Supply (a threat which Macaulay 
deservedly brands as worthy of the worst days of the 
French Convention), they adhered to their amendments. 
But the wisest of those who were most indignant at the 
factious conduct of the Commons, saw that the Lords 
must give way. The country was not with them. The 
people in general looked not at the mischievous principle 
involved in “ tacking,” that is in combining two bills which 
had no connection with one another, merely in order that the 
bill which was admitted to be necessary might carry with 
it another which was less approved; but, being almost 
unanimous in the impropriety of the King’s liberality to 
his foreign friends, were eager for any measure which might 
mark their opinion. 

Somers and Montague, and William himself, deeply as 
his personal feelings were interested, allowed that it was 
safer for the State that both the bills should pass, than that 


The Partition Treaties. 


345 


both should be rejected; and, influenced by the expres¬ 
sion of their sentiments, a number of the Peers, who 
had at first resisted, absented themselves from the final 
division. The Commons prevailed. More than once in 
the next reign they had recourse to the same expedient; 
which indeed has never been declared, and which they 
would perhaps not even now consent to declare illegal. 
But even in the next reign it did not always succeed. It 
was essentially an Opposition manoeuvre, and therefore 
could not succeed against a strong Ministry. On one 
memorable occasion, five years afterwards, the “ Tackers,” 
as they were called, were beaten by a majority of above 
ioo votes. And the people, gradually learning in more 
tranquil times to appreciate the true character of the expe¬ 
dient, came to regard it with such disfavour that after a few 
years it was never again proposed, and is now almost for¬ 
gotten. 

Even the Partition Treaties, though a most striking evi¬ 
dence of the weight attached to William’s opinion, and of 
the accession of influence which the Revolution had 
brought to the nation, were not unattended with circum¬ 
stances of deep mortification to him. We need not here 
enter into a minute examination of the treaties themselves. 
Charles VI. of Spain, the Sovereign of the most exten¬ 
sive dominions which had ever been subject to a single 
Crown, was at the point of death; and, as his sons had 
died in their youth, his heirs could only be looked for 
among his nephews and his cousins, the children of his 
sisters or of his aunts. Of these, one was the eldest son of 
the King of France, but his mother, Maria Teresa, on her 
marriage with Louis, had formally renounced for herself and 
her posterity all claim to the inheritance of the Spanish 


34° 


The English Revolution. 


dominions; and Louis had sworn to hold the renunciation 
sacred and valid. Another was the eldest son of the Em¬ 
peror. A third was the son of the Elector of Bavaria, by 
the Infanta Margaret, a younger sister of Maria Teresa, 
who, like her sister, had renounced her inheritance. If the 
renunciations were to be held valid, the Austrian Prince, 
as his mother had made no such renunciation, could alone 
succeed to the expected vacancy. But the French, who for 
three-quarters of a century had made the depression of the 
House of Austria the chief aim of their policy, were re¬ 
solved not to allow it to obtain such an increase of power 
as would render it a match not only for France, but for all 
Europe; and the statesmen of Vienna were equally indis¬ 
posed to see Spain annexed to France. 

The Spanish possessions in Europe at this time comprised 
Spain, the Netherlands, Lombardy, Naples, and Sicily; and 
to these were added some of the richest of the West Indian 
islands, and the still richer settlements of Mexico and Peru, 
on the American continent. It was evident that so vast a 
dominion would well bear division ; in fact, projects of divid¬ 
ing it had been continually discussed for some years; and 
in 1668 1 Louis had concluded a secret treaty with the Em¬ 
peror Leopold, in which a division of it had been arranged. 
While James was on the throne neither Sovereign thought 
it necessary to take the opinion of England into account; 
but after the peace of Ryswick, under such a King as 
William, she could no longer be passed over. 

And, accordingly, when at the beginning of 1698 Lord 
Portland was sent to Paris as Ambassador, the very first 
subject which the French Ministers, M. de Torcy and 
M. de Pomponne, were instructed to discuss with him was the 

1 " Memoires de M. de Torcy,” vol. I., p. 23. 


Death of the Prince of Bavaria. 347 

arrangement of a new partition treaty. A few weeks later, 
Marshal Tallard, the French Ambassador in London, dis¬ 
cussed the question with William himself, who presently 
crossed over to the Hague with Tallard, to take Heinsius, 
the Pensionary of Holland, into the arrangement. And 
after a negotiation which, on the part of England, was 
conducted by William himself, and which, perhaps in 
consequence, seems to have been carried on with a 
straightforwardness unusual in the diplomacy of that age, 
the first Partition Treaty was concluded in accordance with 
the views of William rather than with those of Louis. The 
Prince of Bavaria was to have Spain, the Netherlands, and 
the American settlements; Lombardy was to be assigned 
to the Emperor’s second son, the Archduke Charles ; and 
Naples, Sicily, with the small frontier province of Guipus- 
coa, on the Pyrenees, was to belong to the Dauphin. 

Had this treaty been carried out it would have saved 
Europe many years of war; but unluckily it had not been 
signed four months when the Prince of Bavaria died. The 
negotiators had to begin their work over again ; and it was 
rendered more difficult by the competitors being thus 
reduced to two. Again Louis was the first to invite a fresh 
negotiation; and, with a moderation of which he had never 
before shown any signs, and which testifies strongly to his 
sense of the power and influence of the King of England, 
he still declared himself willing to waive his son’s claim to 
the Spanish throne, and to allow it to be settled on the 
Archduke Charles, to whom his father, the Emperor, and 
his elder brother were willing to cede their pretensions, 
on condition that Lombardy should be ceded to France. 
England and Holland willingly agreed to this new arrange¬ 
ment, the only objections to which, strange to say, came 


348 The English Revolution . 

from the Emperor whose family was to be the chief gainer by 
it; not that he intended to refuse it, but because, as William 
said to Heinsius, his “ Ministers were people who could 
make up their minds to nothing.” 

Eventually, however, the second partition was signed with¬ 
out his concurrence. But, while the matter was still under 
discussion, the affair came to the ears of Charles of Spain 
himself, who, though he had long been sunk in the lowest 
imbecility, had sense and spirit enough left to feel indignant 
at the proposal to settle the question of his succession and 
to divide his dominions without his consent. His advisers 
took the matter into their own hands. The Spaniards them¬ 
selves had no inclination to be annexed to France; but it 
seemed possible to preserve the succession to the posterity 
of Maria Teresa without placing the two Crowns on one 
head. The Dauphin had more sons than one; and the 
King of Spain was therefore urged to declare the second of 
these youths, Philip, Duke of Anjou, his heir, and thus to 
prevent the dismemberment of the Monarchy. In the 
summer of 1700 he signed a will to this effect, and 
before the end of the year he died. The possibility of the 
young Prince being forbidden by his grandfather to accept 
the inheritance thus bequeathed to him was provided for by 
a clause in the will which, in that event, left the kingdoms 
to the Archduke. But those who framed the will could 
hardly doubt what course would be taken at Versailles. 

Louis, it was true, could not allow his grandson to 
become King of Spain without a deliberate violation of 
treaties which he himself had invited and concluded ; but 
he had constantly shown himself faithless and perfidious 
when far less was to be got by perfidy, and he was not 
likely to hesitate now. He at once proclaimed Philip King 


The Act of Settlement. 


349 


of Spain, and showed a resolution to support him on his new 
throne, even if a recourse to arms should become necessary. 
The Emperor did threaten war, but William, though he 
would gladly have joined him, found that the English nation 
took too little interest in foreign politics to be inclined to 
engage in a fresh war in such a cause. He complained 
bitterly of their “ incredible blindness,” but felt that he had 
no alternative but to recognize the new King. 

Nor was this the only mortification which the transaction 
brought upon him. The Whigs had fallen into disfavour • 
and, as the Tories began to obtain a preponderance in Par¬ 
liament, they resolved to show their power by impeaching 
Lord Somers. When William crossed over to the Hague, 
he had taken with him blank forms to which Somers, as 
Chancellor, had already affixed the Great Seal; and among 
the articles of the impeachment which they drew up, his 
enemies, not unnaturally, selected this act. Such an use of 
the Great Seal had undoubtedly been most unconstitutional, 
and the Chancellor’s defence, that he had done what he had 
done in obedience to the command of the King, was more 
unconstitutional still. It made the whole executive Go¬ 
vernment depend on the single will of the Sovereign. 
Somers, indeed, was acquitted, but it was so plain that his 
acquittal on this point was owing to the mismanagement of 
the impeachment by those who conducted it, that the trial 
also must have been a source of severe mortification to 
William. 

Yet not one of all these transactions excited in any quarter 
the least inclination for a counter-revolution. Indeed, the 
Act of Settlement, which was rendered indispensable by the 
death of the young Duke of Gloucester, and which was 
passed in the summer of 1701, may, in one point of view, 


350 The English Revolution. 

be regarded as an assent to William’s general views of 
foreign policy, since it settled the succession on the Elec- 
tress Sophia in precisely the manner which he had recom¬ 
mended twelve years before, though, at that time, he was 
unable to gain a favourable reception for his recommenda¬ 
tion. 

But still more unmistakably was the feeling of the nation 
shown when, in the autumn of the same year, James II. 
died, and Louis, with even more than his usual effrontery of 
perfidy, recognized his son as King of England. It was a 
violation of the Treaty of Ryswick in its most important 
article. The whole nation felt it as an insult to itself; and 
when William recalled his ambassador from Paris, dismissed 
the French ambassador and prepared for war, the entire 
kingdom supported him with enthusiastic unanimity. At 
the general election, which took place in the autumn, the 
Tories, because they were supposed less staunch than the 
Whigs in their adherence to the principles of the Revolu¬ 
tion, were almost everywhere defeated ; and the new Parlia¬ 
ment granted all the supplies for the maintenance of a force 
sufficient to carry on the war by land and sea that the King 
asked for. And on his death, which took place in the 
first months of the ensuing year, his successor paid the best 
tribute to his memory by adopting all his plans “ to reduce 
the exhorbitant power of France,” as she described it in 
her first speech. 

The Revolution, therefore, was in every sense accom¬ 
plished and completed at the peace of Ryswick. And 
those who are proud of the power and renown, and thank¬ 
ful for the tranquillity and ever-increasing prosperity which is 
now enjoyed by the fortunate inhabitants of this kingdom, 
may well regard with admiring gratitude the Revolution of 


Character of William. 


351 


1688, and the great men to whose free and bold spirit it 
owed its beginnings, and to whose statesmanlike moderation, 
steadfastness, and practical sagacity it was indebted for its 
final establishment and consummation. It may be true that 
of the leaders of the different parties in the State scarcely 
one can be praised unreservedly nor without considerable 
deductions; but it may at the same time be said that 
nearly all of them in their several ways did good and 
statesmanlike service, and contributed to the happy com¬ 
pletion of the great work. 

The first place in merit, as in rank, belongs'to William 

* 

himself. In some respects it may be said that there are 
few men whose character, both in its strong and its weak 
points, lies more on the surface; as, indeed, he was a man 
eminently above disguise. As a soldier, though neither as 
a strategist nor as a tactician endowed by nature with any 
high degree of ability, he was yet so distinguished by 
patience and indomitable fortitude that no man ever suffered 
less from defeats; while, as he was ever observant and can¬ 
did in his estimate both of others and of himself, he was able 
to derive instruction from those to whom he was opposed, 
and in his last campaign showed a far higher degree of 
military skill than had marked his earlier encounters with 
Luxemburg. He had not been pitted against the great 
Marshal Duke for three years without profiting by his 
lessons. 

His political genius and career must be considered 
in two aspects. As an European statesman it is hardly 
possible to over-estimate his abilities or his services. 
Even if it be granted that his animosity to Louis had its 
root in some degree in personal resentment for personal 
injury, and the annexation of his own little principality of 


352 The English Revolution. 

Orange, we must still allow that it was beneficial to the 
whole Commonwealth of Europe, which stood in need of a 
champion to stimulate, maintain, and guide resistance to 
the all-devouring ambition of the French monarch, and 
which had, at the time, no other leader in any country to 
whom it could look up. And it is equally impossible to 
withhold our warmest admiration from the ability with 
which that most necessary work was performed; from the 
diplomatic skill with which the coalition against France 
was formed, and kept together in harmonious working; 
from the firmness with which obstacles were overcome, 
disasters and disappointments were borne, till the war was 
closed by a peace which for the first time humiliated Fouis 
by compelling him to abate his pretensions and restore his 
conquests. 

But we must also regard William as an English statesman, 
and as the ruler of these kingdoms; and, in spite of the 
great and permanent benefits which these nations have 
derived from his achievements, yet it is in parts of his 
conduct as King of England that he appears most deficient 
in propriety of feeling, in sagacity, and even im plain good 
sense. The benefits were not all on one side. If England 
owed much to him, he also owed much to England ; if he 
had transformed her from being a paid vassal of France into 
a free and mighty nation, the victorious head of a mighty 
coalition, and had laid the foundations on which she might 
rise to a height of power and glory far beyond that which he 
himself witnessed, she had in her turn raised him from the 
rank of a petty Prince to that of a great King; she had put 
the arms into his hands by which he accomplished his darling 
object, the humiliation of France. Yet not only did he never 
regard her or her people with affection, but he never even 


Character of William. 


353 


took the slightest trouble to understand their feelings, much 
less to allow them to influence his conduct. All his good¬ 
will was monopolized by his Dutch favourites; on them he 
lavished English treasures to an amount unprecedented in 
the annals of royal favouritism. And in his acts of a more 
public character, though his enthronement was in principle 
the supersession of absolute tyranny by constitutionally 
limited authority, he nevertheless displayed, on more than 
one instance, as arbitrary a temper as any of his prede¬ 
cessors. More than once he withheld the Royal assent from 
measures which the Houses of Parliament had passed, and 
his order to Somers to furnish him with blank powers pre¬ 
viously sealed, was the assertion of a principle which, if 
the complaints made of it had not prevented its being 
turned into a precedent, would have struck at the very root 
of Parliamentary Government. His sanction of the Glen¬ 
coe massacre, for his mercy towards the Master of Stair was 
equivalent to a sanction of his bloody deed, is an offence of 
a deeper dye. Yet, when all these defects in his character 
and errors in his career are fairly contrasted with his good 
qualities and good deeds, it must be allowed that the latter 
far outweigh the former. His good qualities conferred 
lasting benefits, not only on these kingdoms but on Europe 
in general; his faults produced but temporary vexations, 
and those confined to ourselves. And the verdict of pos¬ 
terity, which rarely errs, looking at his virtues and actions as 
a whole, has rightly placed him among her greatest kings. 

In the chiefs of the two great English parties, who, 
whether Whigs or Tories, bore a leading part in these 
transactions, and contributed to the new settlement and to 
its successful working, we see a similar mixture of strength 
and weakness; but still, in striking the balance between 


A A 


354 


The English Revolution. 


them, we are led by the results to pronounce a judgment 
on the whole favourable to them. It was the exemplifica¬ 
tion of a wholly different system from that which now pre¬ 
vails, when William selected his first Ministry in almost 
equal proportions from the two parties; but in the case of 
a new dynasty like his it undoubtedly tended at first to 
facilitate the work of Government. 

We need not say much of Lord Mordaunt or the Duke 
of Shrewsbury, however brilliant was the genius of the one, 
or however attractive the disposition and manners of the 
other. Neither was calculated to add much strength to any 
party; but Lord Halifax was surpassed by no man in the 
kingdom for clearness of intellect, for candour, or for fear¬ 
less integrity. The position in which his brother Peers 
placed him as their President was deserved by his constant 
maintenance of the soundest Whig principles, and was at 
the same time a pledge to all the party that while he 
remained in office, those principles, the foundation of the 
Revolution, would not be departed from. As a Minister he 
was well placed in charge of the Privy Seal, an office of 
honour rather than of work; for his one weakness was an 
indecision in action, arising apparently from an excess of 
acuteness coupled with a tenderness of conscience which 
made him fix his eyes rather on the objections to any line 
of conduct than on the countervailing recommendations. 

The presence of the Tory leaders, Lord Caermarthen and 
Lord Nottingham, at the Council Board, was even more 
important, since it was more necessary at the moment to 
inspire the Tories than the Whigs with a feeling of confi¬ 
dence that no change of the principles of the Constitution 
was involved in the change of dynasty; that the Church 
would be preserved with all her rights and privileges, and 


Lord Caermarthen and Lord Nottingham. 355 

all her purity of worship and observance; and that the 
present deviation from the rule of hereditary succession was 
to be regarded as a single exception, in no degree impairing 
the general principle. And besides the pledge that the Re¬ 
volution was thus but a firmer re-establishment of the ancient 
Constitution which was implied in the acceptance of office 
by these old statesmen of former reigns, Lord Nottingham 
brought to the new Government a deservedly high reputa¬ 
tion for unflinching honesty, great acquaintance with civil 
and constitutional law, and considerable powers of oratory; 
while Lord Caermarthen strengthened it with a practical 
knowledge of the whole machinery of government, and an 
experience in managing men out of, and still more in Parlia¬ 
ment, in which he surpassed all his contemporaries and all 
his. predecessors. He had one great fault from which Not¬ 
tingham was free, an unsatiable covetousness, which prompted 
him to seek gain by corrupt and discreditable means, and 
which eventually led to his disgrace. But it is remarkable 
that these two Tory statesmen, who, by their original prin¬ 
ciples were inclined to the old rather than to the new dynasty, 
were almost the only men who never wavered in their alle¬ 
giance to their new master, and who were never for a single 
moment induced by either fear or hope to lend an ear to 
the temptations of St. Germains. 

The ablest of all the civil servants of the Government 
during this reign were too young to be entitled to be ranked 
among the first promoters of the Revolution; indeed, the 
first Parliament of which they were ever members was the 
Convention-Parliament, which met by William’s invitation 
after James had fled from the country. But it was to the sound 
learning and unerring appreciation of constitutional princi¬ 
ples, which were so conspicuous in Somers, that the Com- 

A A 2 


356 The English Revolution. 

mons chiefly trusted in framing the Declaration of Right; 
it was his eloquence that won the assent of the Convention- 
Parliament and the whole nation to the technical validity of 
all its earlier acts ; it was his influence, more than that of 
any other councillor, which restored and preserved harmony 
between William and the Princess who was to succeed him; 
and it was he whose bold remonstrance apparently con¬ 
tributed in no small degree to shame William out of his 
petulant inclination to abdicate the throne rather than part 
with his Dutch soldiers. While so all-important are finan¬ 
cial considerations to every Government, and so pre-eminent 
was their weight at a time when the expenses of an arduous 
foreign war, to which the nation had long been unaccustomed, 
were added to the ordinary requirements of the State, that 
perhaps Montague, whose bold and original genius not only 
furnished the means for meeting all existing difficulties, but 
also laid the foundation and set the example of a system 
under which the country might from time to time show 
itself equal to any calls that might be made upon it, may 
claim to have contributed more than any one of his col¬ 
leagues or contemporaries to the permanent stability and 
success of the new Government. 

And in estimating the services of these statesmen it must 
not be overlooked that, even before they passed away, the 
Revolution had begun to bear its fruit in measures which 
were indispensable to the national prosperity and progress, 
yet which could never have been enacted under the Govern¬ 
ment which had fallen. If, indeed, we look at the enact¬ 
ments which, to use a modern form of expression, we may 
call the chief Government measures of this reign, our first 
feeling may perhaps be one of wonder at their small num¬ 
ber. But that very paucity is one of the strongest proofs 


357 


Chief Acts of the Reign . 

of the practical wisdom of William and his Ministers. 
They had none of that feverish restlessness of legisla¬ 
tion which had been the bane of some of their succes¬ 
sors. The laws with which they enriched our statute- 
book were of lasting weight and service, though some of 
them made no pretence to novelty. The first, the Bill of 
Rights, the mere embodiment of a former “ Declaration,” 
whose very title was a denial of innovation, placed the civil 
and ecclesiastical rights and liberties of every class and 
every individual on a solid and immovable foundation. 
The emancipation of the Press secured freedom for thought 
and speech. One law established the independence of the 
judicial tribunals, without which experience had proved that 
even rights recognized in the Great Charter itself were not 
safe from attack; another, by establishing periodical sessions 
and a limited duration of Parliament for ever ensured to 
the people a sufficient voice in all matters affecting their 
welfare. 

These were the great features of the domestic administra¬ 
tion of William and his Ministers; and it is greatly to the 
credit of the sterling good sense of the English people of 
that age that, though living in a period of unusual excite¬ 
ment, they yet were contented that their rulers should so 
rigidly bound their views to measures of practical good, and 
to the removal of abuses of which they had actually expe¬ 
rienced the evil. Nor need we seek to enhance their merit 
by the supposition that their acquiescence in this modera¬ 
tion in law-making arose in any degree from a perception 
that what was now done would facilitate or open the door 
to further legislation. 

The bulk of a nation is never far-sighted. Though the 
next reign, short as it was, did not pass away without 


358 


The English Revolution. 


affording one striking proof of the extent to which these 
measures had smoothed the way for fresh arrangements 
beneficial to every part of the United Kingdom in the legis¬ 
lative Union with Scotland. That great measure James I. 
had desired to accomplish from the first moment that the 
English sceptre passed into his hands, but his attempts had 
been unsuccessful. Cromwell, in a high-handed and imper¬ 
fect manner, had for a moment established something of the 
kind when he summoned Scotch and Irish members to a 
Parliament at Westminster, though in his next Parliament 
he did not repeat the experiment. It had been one of 
the last proposals of Clarendon’s administration under 
Charles II., but had constantly been defeated by one 
jealousy or another, till such unpatriotic feelings were 
extinguished or shamed into silence by the Revolution, 
though some remnants of them were still, for a time, 
allowed to mar the completeness of the measure. 

The Union, indeed, may be said to have been the seal of 
the Revolution in Scotland; though, as we have spoken of 
the attempts to effect a counter-revolution in England 
during the first years of William’s reign, we must not for¬ 
bear to mention that attempts on a larger scale to restore 
the exiled family were twice made in Scotland during the 
reigns of the first two Georges. Yet, if we would seek a 
proof how firmly the principles of the Revolution, and a 
deep sense of the solid benefits which it had conferred on all 
classes, had taken hold of the very heart of both nations, 
we could find no better evidence than that which is 
afforded by the history of those enterprises, and especially 
of the second, which, at the time, was believed to be full of 
peril to the Brunswick dynasty. 

A young Prince, specially acceptable to the Scotch as a 


359 


Justification of the Revolution. 

Prince of their own blood, taking advantage of the fact of 
the strength of England being pre-occupied in a continental 
war, landed in the Highlands to re-establish his father on 
the throne. The entire force which the zeal of all his 
adherents, greatly aided by the success which attended his 
first operations, could furnish, never exceeded 9,000 men. 
And though, through the incapacity of the commanders 
opposed to him, he was able to force his way to the very 
centre of England, not one Englishman of the slightest 
reputation or influence joined him; the middle and lower 
classes kept equally aloof; he was compelled to retreat 
even when no hostile force confronted him; and his expe¬ 
dition collapsed solely from the attachment of the whole 
nation to the state of things established by the Revolution; 
though the reigning monarch and all his sons were un¬ 
popular ; though the Ministry was weak beyond almost all 
former example; and though party spirit and faction were 
unusually predominant both in and out of Parliament. 

To justify any Revolution two things are indispensable, 
necessity and success. The Revolution of 1688 combines 
both these requisites. There can be no doubt that it was 
absolutely necessary. The prerogatives of the Crown on 
the one hand, and the rights of the people on the other, 
though clearly enough laid down in legal documents, in 
charters granted and confirmed by many kings, and in 
statutes passed by many Parliaments, had in practice come 
to be ill-defined. There was hardly one of the more 
important articles of the Great Charter that had not been 
violated by the Tudors ; and, though the imperious despot¬ 
ism of those Sovereigns aroused a gradually increasing 
discontent, which, under the new dynasty of the Stuarts, when 
religious differences had added their excitement to aggravate 


360 The English Revolution. 

the slumbering disaffection, broke out into open resistance, 
the rebellion which ensued defeated itself, as we have seen, 
by the very completeness of its triumph. The excesses of 
those who prevailed produced a reaction, which the 
restored Princes mistook for such a recognition of the duty 
of non-resistance that, in the twenty-eight years that fol¬ 
lowed the Restoration, they trampled on the laws and on 
every principle of good and free government more shame¬ 
lessly than the most headstrong of their predecessors. 

And, if Charles II. was too indolent to organize a settled 
system of tyranny, James II. did not scruple to found his 
claim to dispense with the laws on the pernicious maxim 
which he had inherited from his grandfather, of his divine 
right to the throne. The assertion of such a right clearly 
involved the denial of any right on the part of his subjects 
to bind him by any conditions. But a constitutional Go¬ 
vernment in its very essence is one of conditions ; and if it 
was thus impossible to bind James, with his ideas, to the 
observance of terms, it became indispensable to place a 
Sovereign on the throne in his stead who could be so 
bound. The Revolution, therefore, was indispensably 
necessary. And it is the peculiar glory of the statesmen 
who accomplished it that they went no farther than was 
necessary; and sought nothing beyond security for the 
maintenance of those liberties of which, by a hundred laws, 
the people were clearly rightful possessors. As we have 
already seen, it is to this moderation that the Revolution, in 
a great degree, owes its other justification, that of success. 

One further observation it seems important to make. 
That, though it is often spoken of as a Protestant Revolu¬ 
tion, to which we are indebted for the maintenance of the 
reformed religion in the country, it was not originally a 


Character of Janies s Government. 361 

religious movement. While Charles was on the throne the 
attempt to exclude James from the succession on the ground 
of his being a Roman Catholic failed; and, after James 
became King, the whole nation, for a time, was not merely 
acquiescent but even ardent in its loyaky. Not only was 
the Privy Council warm in its expressions of attachment to 
its new master, but the general election, which took place 
three months after his accession, returned a House of Com¬ 
mons so inclined to obedience that he admitted that he 
himself could hardly have improved it. And when, in the 
course of the summer, the Duke of Monmouth, who a year 
or two before had been paraded as the champion of Pro¬ 
testantism, took up arms to overturn his Government, he 
only brought ruin on himself and additional strength to the 
new Sovereign. 

It was not till, in spite of the warnings of many Roman 
Catholic statesmen, James, by his persecution of Protes¬ 
tants, whether belonging to the Established Church or Non¬ 
conformists, by his repeated violations of the ancient and 
well-known laws of the kingdom, and by his pertinacious 
invasions of the civil rights and privileges of his subjects, 
had compelled them to identify Popery with tyranny that 
they rose against him; and even when they did so rise, their 
views did not at first go beyond compelling him to observe 
those ancient laws which he had already sworn to maintain. 
Nor did any party of the slightest influence in the State 
contemplate stripping him of a single particle of his lawful 
prerogatives till, with unprecedented pusillanimity, he fled 
the kingdom and practically abdicated his authority. 

The brilliant historian of these times, in the impassioned 
eulogy with which he closes the first part of his narrative, 
has wisely rested one of its chief claims on our admiration 


302 


The English Revolution. 


and gratitude in the circumstance that it has been our last 
Revolution. That it has been such is high praise of the 
people also, as well as of their rulers, since it testifies by 
the irresistible evidence of facts to their possession of a 
sobriety and steadiness of judgment which neither the spirit 
of faction nor the arts of demagogues can permanently 
disturb or mislead. These qualities, which are at once 
moral and intellectual virtues, are, as we are wont to flatter 
ourselves, among the especial characteristics of the national 
mind, and the fruit which, in this instance, they have pro¬ 
duced is, at the same time, their best reward. It is the 
continued enjoyment of a Constitution which, beyond any 
other ever known in the world, combines strength and 
stability with a capacity for improvement, and the full 
maintenance of all legitimate authority with the most com¬ 
plete freedom to every individual. 





INDEX. 


A. 

Abingdon, Earl of, joins William, 
107. 

Adda, Count, is Papal Nuncio in 
England, 34. 

Aghrim, battle of, 234. 

Albeville, Marquis of, is sent by 
James to Holland, 56; warns 
James of William’s designs, 95. 

Allybone, one of the judges in the 
Bishops’ trial, 80. 

Angus, Earl of, raises a regiment 
for William, 190. 

Anne, Princess, disbelieves the genu¬ 
ineness of the Prince of Wales, 
76; influenced by the Churchills, 
94; flies from London, 117. 

Antrim, Earl of, is repelled from 
Derry, 196. 

Argyll, Earl of, is executed, 43. 

Argyll (son of the former) joins 
William, 98; presents the Scotch 
crown to William and Mary, 177. 

Arnold, Michael, one of the jury in 
the Bishops’ trial, 81. 

Arran, Lord, adheres to James, 174. 

Ashton engaged in Preston’s con¬ 
spiracy, 308. 

Athlone, capture of, 231, 


Atholl, Duke of, adheres to Tames, 
174. 

Auverquerque, a favourite of Wil¬ 
liam, 310. 

B. 

Baker, Major, joint commander at 
Derry, 199. 

Balcarras, Earl of, is willing to sub¬ 
mit to William, 179. 

Barbesieux, Marquis de, sanctioned 
plots against William, 314. 

Barclay, Sir G., conspires against 
William, 321. 

Barillon, French ambassador in 
England, 22; his conversations 
with James II., 33. 

Bavaria, Elector of, his claims to 
the crown of Spain, 346, scq. 

Beaufort, Duke of, adheres to James, 
107. 

Bellasis, Lord, his character of 
Tyrconnel, 42; advises James to 
be moderate, 71. 

Bellasis, Col., writes to William, 58. 

Bellefonds, Marshal, encamps at La 
Hogue, 286. 

Benbow, Admiral, destroys St. Malo, 
290. 





Index. 


364 

Bentinck, afterwards Earl of Port¬ 
land, a favourite of William, 310; 
negotiates the peace of Ryswick, 
335 I grants made to him are 
annulled by Parliament, 341. 

Berkeley, Lord, burns Dieppe, 290. 

Berwick, Duke of, accompanies 
James to France, 139; at Limerick, 
224 ; commands an Irish brigade 
in the French service, 238; at 
Steinkirk, 276; aids in Charnock’s 
conspiracy, 320, seq. 

Boisseleau, Brigadier, in command 
at Limerick, 224. 

Boufflers, Marshal, in Flanders, 
279; negotiates with Portland, 
335 - 

Boyne, battle of, 215. 

Breadalbane, Earl, his dealings with 
Glencoe, 298. 

Browning, Captain, at Derry, 202. 

Burnet, Bishop, his history of these 
times, 85; aids in framing Wil¬ 
liam’s manifesto, xoi ; preaches at 
Exeter, 105; is employed to pacify 
the Roman Catholic priests, 145; 
explains William’s views, 146; 
and Mary’s, 161 ; proposes a 
clause in the Act of Settlement, 
255 - 

C, 

Calvin, head of one school of re¬ 
formers, 2. 

Campbell, Captain, at Glencoe, 302. 

Cannon, General, commands the 
Irish division at Killiecrankie, 190. 

Castlemaine, Earl of, is one of 
James’s advisers, 36; goes as am¬ 
bassador to Rome, 37. 

Catinat, Marshal, in Piedmont, 272. 

Charles I., state of England at his 
accession, 3 ; his reluctance to 
meet his Parliament, 4; enters the 


House of Commons to arrest the 
five members, 6; is put to death, 8. 

Charles II. is restored, 10 ; his 
character, 11; becomes a pensioner 
of Louis XIV., 12 ; issues a De¬ 
claration of Indulgence, but can¬ 
cels it, 13; restores his brother to 
office, 16 ; dies declaring himself 
a Roman Catholic, 17. 

Charles VI., of Spain, his heirs, 

345 . seq. 

Charles, Archduke, his claims to the 
throne of Spain, 347, seq. 

Charnock conspires against William, 
319, seq. 

Chartres, Duke of, at Neerwinden, 
282. 

Churchill, Captain, joins William, 
US- 

Churchill, Lord, afterwards Earl of 
Marlborough, his character of 
James II., 21; favours William’s 
designs, 94; his influence with 
Princess Anne, 94; joins William, 
115; persuades Anne to allow 
herself to be postponed to William, 
151, 163 ; commands in Flanders, 
210; captures Cork and Kinsale, 
227; plots against the Govern¬ 
ment, 310; with his wife is dis¬ 
missed from all employment, 313. 

Clarendon, Earl of, is minister of 
Charles II., n; character of his 
administration, 12. 

Clarendon, Earl of (son of the for¬ 
mer), a leader of the Tory party, 
34; is Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, 
35 ; is recalled, 41; advises James 
to summon a Parliament, no; 
further advice, 118 ; tries to make 
Anne jealous of William, 150; is 
inclined to a counter-revolution, 
293; engaged in Preston's con¬ 
spiracy, 305. 





Index . 365 


Cleveland, Duchess of, mistress of 
Charles II., 36. 

Clifford, Lord, is removed from the 
Ministry, 13. 

Compounders, their views, 316. 

Compton, Bishop of London, is the 
spokesman of the Bishops, 31; is 
deprived of the Deanery of the 
Chapel Royal, 32 ; refuses to sus¬ 
pend Sharpe, 50; is suspended, 
51; escorts Princess Anne, 1x7; 
supports Lord Paget, 144. 

Coningsby, Thomas, a negotiator 
at Limerick, 236. 

Convention, the, is declared in Par¬ 
liament, 243. 

Cornbury, Lord, joins William, 109. 

Crewe, Bishop, becomes a member of 
the Court of High Commission, 51. 

Cromwell, Oliver, a member of the 
Independents, 5; he outwits the 
Presbyterians, 7 ; expels the Par¬ 
liament, 8 ; causes the execution 
of Charles, 8 ; governs with great 
tyranny, 9; dies, 10 ; his cruelty 
in Ireland, 40. 

Crone, an agent in Preston's con¬ 
spiracy, 306. 

D. 

Dalrymple, Sir John, his conduct 
respecting Glencoe, 298. 

Danby, Earhof, afterwards Marquis 
of Caermarthen, is impeached, 15; 
seizes York for William, no; takes 
a leading part in the debates, 156; 
denies the throne can ever be 
vacant, 159; is President of the 
Council, 244 ; retires, 260. 

Dartmouth, Earl of, commands the 
English fleet, 102; refuses to con¬ 
vey the Prince of Wales to France, 
in, 121; is dismissed, 145; en¬ 
gages in Preston's conspiracy, 305. 


D'Avaux, Count, ambassador from 
Louis in Ireland, 194. 

De la Caillemotte, M., is killed at 
the Boyne, 218. 

Delamere, Lord, is Chancellor of the 
Exchequer, 244. 

Delaval, Sir R., attacks Cherbourg, 
286. 

De Rosen, Count, Commander-in- 
Chief for James in Ireland, 194; 
arrives in front of Derry, 199; 
opposed to Schomberg at Dun¬ 
dalk, 211. 

Devonshire, Earl of, comments 
boldy on the King’s speech, 28; 
seizes Nottingham for William, 
no; makes a motion in the House 
of Lords, 150. 

D’Humi&res, Marshal, commands 
in Flanders, 272. 

Dorset, Earl of, aids Anne’s flight, 
ii 7 - 

Douglas, Captain, at Derry, 202. 

Dover, Lord, agrees with Lord 
Dartmouth, 122. 

Drumlanrig, Lord, joins William, 
116. 

Dundee, Lord, advises James to give 
battle 115; his conduct in the time 
of Charles II., 178 ; is willing to 
submit to William, 179; flies to his 
own castle, 181; raises an army, 
183; falls at Killiecrankie, 188. 

D’Usson, General, commands in 
Ireland, 229. 

Dykvelt, is sent by Prince of Orange 
to England, 54; conveys letters to 
William, 38. 

E. 

Elliott, Mr., engaged in Preston s 
conspiracy, 308. 

Exclusion Bill is brought in, but 
rejected, 16. 


1 






366 


Index . 


F. 

Fagei,, Grand Pensionary of United 
States, in William's confidence, 
59; writes to Stewart, 59 ; draws 
up William’s manifesto, 101. 

Farmer, Antony, James nominates 
him President of Magdalen, 62. 

Fenwick, SirJ., privy to Charnock’s 
conspiracy, 319; is attainted, 328 

Feversham, Lord, James’s Com- 
mander-in-Chief, 107; is sent to 
rescue James, 130. 

Finch, one of the Bishops counsel, 78. 

Fisher, Mr., reveals Charnock’s con¬ 
spiracy, 322. 

Fitton, A., made Lord Chancellor 
of Ireland, 195. 

Friend, Sir J., engages in Char¬ 
nock’s conspiracy, 319, scq. 

Fuller, an agent in Preston’s con¬ 
spiracy, 306. 

G. 

Gaillard, Father, preaches before 
Louis XIV., 97. 

George, Prince, of Denmark, joins 
William, 116. 

Ginkell, General, afterwards Earl of 
Athlone, commands in Ireland, 
230; lays siege to Athlone, 230; 
defeats St. Ruth at Aghrim, 234; 
moves to Limerick, 235; concludes 
the Treaty of Limerick, 236 ; 
grants made to him are annulled 
by Parliament, 341. 

Glencoe, massacre of, 299, seq. 

Gloucester, Duke of, birth of, 256; 
dies, 257. 

Godolphin, Earl of, becomes the 
Queen’s Chamberlain, 23 ; is ap¬ 
pointed a Commissioner to treat 
with William, 120; takes a leading 
part in the debates, 155; resigns, 
260. 


Goodman, a witness against Sir J. 
Fenwick, 327. 

Gordon, Duke of, Governor of 
Edinburgh Castle, 180. 

Grafton, Duke of, advises James to 
summon a Parliament, no. 

Grandval plots to assassinate Wil¬ 
liam, and is hanged, 314. 

H. 

Hales, SirE., trial of, 47; is Lieu¬ 
tenant of the Tower, 74. 

Halifax, Marquis of, favours the re¬ 
jection of the Exclusion Bill, 26; 
refuses to give up the Test Act, 26; 
is dismissed from office, 26 ; dis¬ 
approves of William's attempt, 
87; adheres to James, 119; is 
appointed a Commissioner to treat 
with William, 120; is Chairman 
of the Council, 136; Speaker of 
the House of Peers, 149; argues 
that the contract is dissolved, 159, 
162; presents the crown to William 
and Mary, 167. 

Hallam, Henry, his description of 
Cromwell’s government, 9. 

Hamilton, Duke of, President of the 
Scotch Council, 170 ; and of the 
Estates, 174; refuses Dundee a 
guard, 181. 

Hamilton, General, lays siege to 
Derry, 198. 

Hamilton, Colonel, at Glencoe, 302. 

Hampden, John, a member of the 
Presbyterian sect, 5. 

Heinsius, Pensionary of Holland, 
347 - 

Herbert, C.J., member of the Court 
of High Commission, 51 ; is dis¬ 
missed, 61. 

Herbert, Admiral (afterwards Lord 
Torrington), conveys the letter of 




Index. 


invitation to William, 86; com¬ 
mands William’s fleet, 98; at 
Bantiy Bay, 285 ; at Beachy 
Head, 285. 

Holloway, is a judge in the Bishops’ 
trial, 76. 

Hough, is made President of Mag¬ 
dalen, 62. 

I. 

Innocent XI., discourages the 
Jesuits, 37. 

J- 

James II., Duke of York (afterwards 
King), avows himself a Roman 
Catholic, 13; is replaced as Lord 
High Admiral, 16; succeeds to 
the throne, 18 ; is popular at first, 
19; writes to Prince of Orange, 
23; brings up an army to Houns¬ 
low Heath, 24 ; opens Parliament, 
27; prorogues Parliament, and 
reigns with despotic power, 32 ; 
his advantages for restoring tran¬ 
quillity in Ireland, 40; is angry 
with the Scotch, 45 ; erects a 
Court of High Commission, 49; 
issues a Declaration of Indul¬ 
gence, 56; dissolves Parliament, 
60; attacks the Universities, 61; 
remodels corporations, &c., 65; 
publishes a fresh Declaration of 
Indulgence, 68 ; questions the 
Peers on William’s manifesto, ro6; 
connects himself more closely with 
France, 120; flies from London, 
128; is stopped at Rochester, 
129; returns to London, 134; 
flies a second time, and reaches 
France, 138; returns to Ireland, 
and lands at Kinsale, 192; opens 
the Irish Parliament, 206; returns 
to France, 221; issues a fresh 
Declaration, 288 ; dies, 350. 

James, Prince of Wales, is born, 74. 


36 ; 

Jefferies. C.J., his violence in the 
Court of High Commission, 51; 
urges violent counsels on James, 
72 ; is appointed one of the Coun¬ 
cil, hi ; is seized by the mob, 133. 

K. 

Ken, Bishop, refuses the oath of 
allegiance, 251. 

Keppel (Earl of Albemarle), grants 
made to him are annulled, 342. 

Kirke, Colonel, is sent to relieve 
Derry, 201. 

L. 

Langdale, Lord, is taken prisoner 
at Hull, 124. 

Laud, Archbishop, his fondness 'for 
ceremonies, 3. 

Lauderdale, Duke of, offers his 
house at Ham to James, 137. 

Lauzun, Count, is sent to command 
in Ireland, 214; is defeated at the 
Boyne, 220; crosses to Limerick, 
222; returns to France, 228. 

Leake, Captain, at Derry, 202. 

Leyburn, John, is Vicar Apostolic 
in England, 34. 

Limerick, Treaty of, 236. 

Lochiel fights for James at Killie- 
crankie, 186. 

Locke, John, on the adulteration of 
the coinage, 265. 

Lockwood, Mr., executed for Char- 
nock’s conspiracy, 326. 

Louis XIV., bribes Charles II., 12; 
repeals the Edict of Nantes, 26 ; 
his ascendency over the whole 
Continent, 87; he has annexed 
Orange, 89; tres to intimidate 
the United States, 91 ; warns 
James of William’s designs, 92 ; 
quarrels with the Pope and the 
Emperor, 93 ; hears of the cap- 





368 


Index, 


ture of Philipsbourg, 97; treats 
James and Mary with great liber¬ 
ality 193; joins Luxemburg, 278; 
returns to Paris, 279. 

Louvois, Secretary of State in France, 
97 ; dies, 314. 

Lovelace, Lord, is defeated by Duke 
of Beaufort, 107. 

Lowick, Colonel, executed for Char- 
nock's conspiracy, 326. 

Lundy, Colonel, offers to surrender 
Derry, 199. 

Luther, head of one school of re¬ 
formers, 2. 

Luxemburg, Duke of, defeats Wal- 
deck at Fleurus, 273 ; takes 
Namur, 275; defeats William at 
Steinkirk, 276 ; and at Neer- 
winden, 280. 

M. 

Macclesfield, Earl of, joins Wil¬ 
liam, 98. 

Macdonald of Glencoe, 298, seq. 

Mackay, General, has a command 
in William’s army, 100; is sent 
against Dundee, 184; is defeated 
at Killiecrankie, 188; is sent to 
Ireland, 230; at Aghrim, 234 ; is 
killed at Steinkirk, 277. 

Mary, Princess (afterwards Queen), 
intercedes for Bishop Compton, 
51; lands in England, 167; ac¬ 
cepts the crown, 168; is Regent 
during William’s absences, 293 ; 
dies, 315, 

Mary, Queen of James II., has a son, 
74 - 

Maumont, M. de, commands against 
Derry, 200. 

Maynard, Serjeant, presents an ad¬ 
dress to William, 141. 

Melfort, Lord, is Secretary of State 
in Scotland, 43; brings a letter 


from James, 149; writes to Lord 
Dundee, 182; his letter, 317. 

Middleton, Lord, Secretary of State, 
143 ; and in France, 317. 

Milton, John, his “ Areopagitica,” 
267. 

Ministry, character and composition 
of, 244. 

Monmouth, Duke of, rebels, and is 
executed, 20. 

Montague, Charles, becomes Chan¬ 
cellor of the Exchequer, 260. 

Mordaunt, Lord, is First Lord of 
the Treasury, 244. 

Mountcashel, Earl of, is defeated at 
Newton Butler, 191, 204. 

Mountjov, Lord, is excluded from 
Enniskillen, 197. 

N. 

Newton, Sir Isaac, is made Master 
of the Mint, 266. 

Noailles, Due de, commands in 
Spain, 272. 

Non-compounders, their views, 316. 

Non-jurors, the, are deprived of all 
preferments, 250. 

Nottingham, Earl of, approves the 
invitation to William, 87 ; his ad¬ 
vice to James, 119; is appointed 
a commissioner to meet with Wil¬ 
liam, 120; moves to establish a 
Regency, 155; to declare the Con¬ 
vention a Parliament, 243; is Sec¬ 
retary of State, 244; resigns, 260; 
objects to the wording of the 
Association, 324. < 

O. 

O Neill, Sir Phelim, massacres the 
Irish Protestants, 39. 

Orkney, Lady, grants made to her 
are annulled, 341. 






Index. 


Ormond, Duke of, one of the leaders 
of the Tory party, 34. 

Ormond (son of the preceding) joins 
William, 116. 

P. 

Paget, Lord, affirms the vacancy of 
the throne, 144. 

Parker, James appoints him Bishop 
of Oxford, and President of Mag¬ 
dalen, 62. 

Parkyns, Sir W., engages in Char- 
nock’s conspiracy, 319, seq. 

Parliament—Bill for Triennial Par¬ 
liaments is repealed, 10. 

Partition Treaties, 345, seq. 

Pemberton, one of the Bishops’ 
counsel, 78. 

Pendergrass, Mr., reveals Char- 
nock's conspiracy, 322. 

Perth, Earl, is Chancellor of Scot¬ 
land, 43; is imprisoned, 169. 

Petre, Father, V.P. of the Jesuits 
in England, 37. 

Philip of Anjou, declared heir to the 
Spanish Crown, 348. 

Plot, the Popish, 14. 

Pollexfen, one of the Bishops’ 
counsel, 78. 

Pomponne, M. de, French Secretary 
of State, 346. 

Porter, Mr., is engaged in Char- 
nock’s conspiracy, 322. 

Porter, Sir C., a negotiator at Lim¬ 
erick, 236. 

Powell, as one of the judges in the 
Bishops’ trial, denies the dispens¬ 
ing power, 80; is dismissed, 82. 

Powle, Mr., is Speaker of the House 
of Commons, 149. 

Preston, Lord, conspires against 
William, 305. 

Prior, M., brings over the Treaty of 
Ryswick, 338. 


369 

Pusignan, Brigadier, commands 
against Derry, 200. 

Pym, a Presbyterian, 5. 

Q. 

Queensberry, Duke of, Lord Trea¬ 
surer in Scotland, 43 ; is dis¬ 
missed, 43. 

R. 

Reformation, character and effect 
of in different countries, 1. 

Remonstrance, The Great, is pre¬ 
sented to Charles I., 6. 

Revolution, character of, 241, 330. 

Rice, Stephen, made Chief Baron in 
Ireland, 195. 

Rochester, Earl of, becomes Lord 
Treasurer, 23 ; is one of the 
leaders of the Tory party, 34 ; 
his servility in the Court of High 
Commission, 51 ; is dismissed 
from office, 52; his advice to 
James, 118; takes a leading part 
in the debates, 155. 

Rooke, SirG., destroys the French 
fleet at La Hogue, 286. 

Russell, Admiral, has an interview 
with William, 85; is made First 
Lord of the Admiralty, 260; de¬ 
feats Tourville at La Hogue, 285; 
blockades him in Toulon, 291; is 
tampered with by James, 293. 

Ruvigny, Marquis (afterwards Earl 
of Galway), at the siege of Ath- 
lone, 232 ; grants made to him 
are annulled by Parliament, 341. 

Ryswick, Treaty of, 337, seq. 

S. 

Sancroft, Archbishop, does not sit 
in the Court of High Commission, 
51; is unwell, 69; is summoned 
before the Privy Council, 73; is 

B B 





370 


Index. 


questioned by James about 
William’s manifesto, 106; sum¬ 
mons a Council of Peers, 131, 

Sarsfield has a regiment in James’s 
army, 112; at the Boyne, 218; 
undertakes to defend Limerick, 
223; is made Lord Lucan, 229 ! 
retreats to Limerick, 235 ; signs 
the Treaty of Limerick, 236; re¬ 
turns to France, 237; is killed at 
Landen, 238. 

Savoy, Duke of, makes peace with 
France, 334. 

Sawyer, one of the Bishops’ coun¬ 
sel, 78. 

Schomberg, Marshal, second in com¬ 
mand to William, 100; at Salis¬ 
bury, 112; lands in Ireland, 202 ; 
advances to Dundalk, 211; is 
killed at the Boyne, 218. 

Settlement, Act of, 257, 

Seymour, Sir E., joins William at 
Exeter, 108; opposes the Trien¬ 
nial Act, 264. 

Sharpe, Reverend, preaches against 
Popery, 50. 

Shovel, Sir C., destroys Calais, 290. 

Shrewsbury, Earl of, joins William, 
38 ; is accused by Sir J. Fenwick, 
328. 

Sidney, Lord, a negotiator at 
Limerick, 236. 

Solmes, Count, commands Dutch 
troops in Flanders, 210; deserts 
the English regiments at Stein- 
kirk, 277. 

Somers (afterwards Lord), one of the 
Bishops’ counsel, 79; conducts 
the conference for the House of 
Commons, 163 ; takes the lead in 
framing the Declaration of Right, 
166; is impeached, 349. 

Sophia, the Electress, recommended 
for the succession by William, 


255; is included in the Act of 
Settlement, 257. 

Sprat, Bishop, his servility in the 
Court of High Commission, 51. 

Stewart, James persuades him to 
write to Fagel, 59. 

Strafford, Earl of, is impeached and 
attainted, 5. 

St. Ruth, General, is sent to Ireland, 
229; is defeated and killed at 
Aghrirn, 234. 

Sunderland, Earl of, becomes Secre¬ 
tary of State, 23; encourages 
James in his arbitrary acts, 35 ; 
becomes President of the Council, 
36; becomes a Roman Catholic, 
71; proves the presentation of the 
Bishops’ petition, 78. 

T. 

Tacking, unconstitutional, 344. 

Talbot, Brigadier, distinguishes him¬ 
self at Limerick, 226. 

Tallard, Marshal, French Ambassa¬ 
dor, 347. 

Tahnash, General, commands in 
Ireland, 230; at Aghrirn, 234 ; at 
Neerwinden, 282; is killed at 
Brest, 290. 

Test Act, The, is passed, 13. 

Thanet, Earl of, expresses his 
views, 165. 

Toleration Bill, 246. 

Torcy, M. de, French Secretary of 
State, 346. 

Tourville, Count de, at Bantry Bay 
and Beachy Head, 285; at La 
Hogue, 286 ; cruises in the Chan¬ 
nel, 300; burns Teignmouth, 307. 

Treby, Sir G., one of the Bishops’ 
counsel, 78. 

Trelawney, Bishop, is prosecuted, 
76. 

Triennial Act, 263. 




Index. 


37 i 


Tullibardine, Marquis' of, declares 
for William, 174. 

Turner, Bishop, engages in Pres¬ 
ton’s conspiracy, 305. 

Tyrconnel, Earl of, is Commander- 
in-Chief in Ireland, 36 ; his vio¬ 
lence, 38 ; becomes Lord-Lieute¬ 
nant, 41; his violence in Ireland, 
196, seq.; crosses over to France to 
try for aid, 229 ; dies, 235. 

V. 

Vend&me, Due de, commands in 
Spain, 272 ; takes Barcelona, 337. 

Villeroy, Marshal, in Flanders, 284. 

W. 

Waldeck, Prince, commands in 
Flanders, 272; is defeated at 
Fleurus, 273. 

Walker, G., joint-commander at 
Derry, 200; is killed at the Boyne, 
220. 

Walker, Obadiah, turns Roman 
Catholic, 48. 

William, Prince of Orange, after¬ 
wards King, refuses to be 
reconciled to Louis XIV., 23; 
communicates with malcontents 
in England, 53, seq. ; congratulates 


James on the birth of the Prince 
of Wales, 76 ; is invited to 
England, 83; sails for England, 
97; lands in Devonshire, 103; 
proceeds to Exeter, 105; meets 
James’s Commissioners at Hun- 
gerford, 125 ; invites the Peers to 
meet him at St. James’s, 142 ; 
accepts the crown, 168; lands at 
Carrickfergus, 212 ; is wounded at 
the Boyne, 216; returns to England, 
225; is crowned at Dublin, 238; 
issues an Act of Grace, 253; 
crosses to Flanders, 274 ; is un¬ 
gracious and arbitrary, 294; dies, 
350 ; his character, 351. 

Winchester, Marquis of, joins Wil¬ 
liam, 98. 

Wolseley, Colonel, defeats Lord 
Mountcashel at Newton Butler, 
204. 

Wright, N., is made Chief Justice, 
62; sits in the trial of the Bishops, 
76. 

Wurtemberg, Duke of, at the siege 
of Athlone, 232. 

Z. 

Zulestein, Baron, an envoy of Wil¬ 
liam, 135. 


Woodfall & Kinder, Printers, Milford Lane, Strand, London, W.C. 




































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